Chapter 11

Getting to Sullivan’s Island was a matter of heading in the direction of the seafood restaurant they had visited the night before, and driving an extra five or so miles until they crossed the Ben Sawyer Bridge to get onto the island.

"It might be said that Charleston has some major issues with bridges," Mart commented as they crossed the waterway. "This bridge was actually upturned and blown partly into the water during the infamous Hurricane Hugo that swept through on September 20, 1989. Residents had almost no way off the island except boat and contrary to popular belief, not everyone who lives on an island these days has one. There was also the small factor that the next morning, those who did have a boat found it down the road a few hundred feet."

"How perfectly horrible," kindhearted Honey said. "I thought some of the hurricanes we had back home were terrifying. Hugo was that bad?"

"Hugo," Mart continued "reached winds of 135mph and had a storm surge of 20 feet. It left 7.2 billion dollars in damage to not only this state but states farther north and behind it in the Caribbean, 26 people dead in South Carolina alone, 5,100 homes destroyed and twice that many uninhabitable."

"And to think how upset we got about our clubhouse. That wasn’t even somewhere we had to live."

"Honey, it’s not wrong to feel bad about that," Jim said. "But what Mart just told us does kind of show us the true picture of the extent to which people can be affected by natural disasters. The next time we hear about something like that happening, I hope I’m able to go and help."

Jim had by now turned the car to the right after coming to the last stop sign before it looked like they would drive straight into the ocean had they continued driving forward. He was following Trixie’s directions, who was reading a map while quietly listening to the other’s comments.

"Just keep driving and we should see signs in a little while," she said. "Jim’s right. Those storms are always tragic to everyone. And wouldn’t it be great to be able to help then next time one happens. I mean, not that I want one to happen, but if it does happen than –. Well, you know what I mean. Especially since we almost lost something dear to us because of a horrorcaine, as Bobby would say. I remember moms and dad saying that they had lost some Crabapples from that same storm because it came so far up the eastern coast."

Honey shuddered. "Let’s hope that this season brings no hurricanes."

"Well hurricane season just started so hopefully, things will indeed be quiet this year," Regan answered.

Jim drove the car around the curve of a road and stopped abruptly. They all looked left to see a tall black and white lighthouse.

"I suppose you’re about to tell us which lighthouse that is, and it’s history as well?" Trixie asked, teasing her brother.

"I most certainly will do that as this particular lighthouse is not open to the public. Notice the unusual triangular shape of the structure, better seen from the air, but we will have to make do as the Wheeler jet is currently back in New York State. In any case, it bears the distinct resemblance to an air-traffic control tower. This lighthouse, at 163 feet tall, was built in 1962 when Charleston Harbor shifted it’s layout and the lighthouse on Morris Island became obsolete."

Trixie had to bite her tongue to refrain from commenting on the fact that though the lighthouse was indeed obsolete, it was still beautiful. She’d had no time to talk to Honey since arriving very early in the morning with Jim and was not entirely sure how Honey would react to the news of her night out. She was almost positive that her best friend would be happy for her. Maybe it was just that she wanted to savor the private feelings a bit longer before she shared. There was no way that she would be telling Mart any of it. She’d never hear the end of it. Sighing, she tuned back into what Mart was saying.

"Note the black and white color, a very familiar pattern with many lighthouses on the mid-eastern coastal states. It once bore the paint in a red and white design. Another interesting feature is the modern amenities that this lighthouse boasts. It has air conditioning, a rarity, and is the only light house to have an elevator for reaching the upper level. A small staircase must be used to reach the lamp room however. The first lamp placed in the room had an amazing brilliance of 28 million-candle power. This proved to be hazardous and so it was reduced to a lamp shining of just over one million-candle power. It might sound like a paucity of light, but rest assured my friends, the Sullivan’s Island light can be seen from over 26 miles away."

"What are those little buildings beside the tower?" Honey asked.

"Those would be the life saving station and attendant’s house, built in 1898. It is no longer in use as such and is owned and maintained by the National Park Service, which is the same organization, incidentally, that is trying to get their hands on the lighthouse as well. The Coast Guard no longer desires to care for the structure but the Park Service wants the land to remain in historic value. The deal is, should it come through, that the Park Service would maintain the grounds and structure, while the Coast Guard would man the light. A most satisfactory arrangement if you ask me."

Regan gave a small laugh and shook his head as Jim put the car back in gear. He had waited long enough for Honey and Trixie to take pictures with their cameras and for Mart to finish his discourse and Regan was anxious to get to the fort, being somewhat interested in military history himself. Trixie and Honey weren’t entirely sure how they would like this place on their list of sites, but Jim and Mart were every bit as enthusiastic as Regan. Before long, they had reached the Fort and pulled into the parking lot. Making sure they had their cameras, they trooped inside to the air-conditioned lobby of the visitor’s center.

"Hi. Welcome to Fort Moultrie National Monument." A man in a tan and olive green uniform stepped up to them. "Have you been here before?"

"Nope. We’re from out of state," Trixie volunteered.

"Where about?"

"New York."

"Great," he said enthusiastically. "Welcome to Charleston and we’re glad you stopped over at Fort Moultrie. Sumter gets a lot more business," he laughed.

"We haven’t been there yet," Honey said.

"Well, that’s not bad at all. It’s actually a good thing to come to Moultrie first because it’s an older fort with Revolutionary history leading up to the Civil War. Sumter was started after the War of 1812 and basically it’s real history starts and ends with the War Between the States. So you’re just going in order. The movie about Moultrie starts in about 3 minutes, and it’s 20 minutes long. After it’s over, feel free to look around in here where we have a number of items on display and some that will inform you about the fort even more. When you’re finished inside, you can walk across the street to the fort and look around over there. The grounds hold a number of cannon as well. All we ask is that you don’t walk on things that shouldn’t be walked on, and try not to walk on the grass. Some kids last summer thought it would be fun to roll down the hills that are in the structure," he added as an aside. "Actually, I thought it was funny too, but we have to maintain appearances and all that. So anyway, be careful, have a good time, and y’all have a great time here in Cha’lstn."

They said good bye to the talkative park ranger and went inside the small theater. The movie was indeed informative and they were glad they had chosen to see it. "I feel like I know a lot more about history now," Trixie giggled. "That’s a good thing too. Don’t we have to take U.S. History junior year?" she asked Honey.

"Yep," Honey grinned. "And I know what I’m writing my history term paper on too. Well, at least I know a bunch of things I’m going to choose from," she giggled.

They were now across the road, prepared to come back inside to look in the gift shop on the return trip to the car. A brown sign announced that this was indeed Fort Moultrie. From here they could see a tall central structure with many flags, as well as cannon, gates, and tunnels. Agreeing to split up and meet back in an hour, Jim, Regan and Mart headed for the small internal structure that apparently had many displays inside from various wars, and Trixie and Honey started forward to the upper most part, from which they could see the mouth of Charleston Harbor. Plaques every now and then described the fort and it’s history.

"Look, Honey. This one says that this fort was where the first decisive victory in the American Revolution was. In June of 1776, before independence had even been declared, guns managed to repel British troops." They moved on.

"This one is telling about the battles here during the Civil War. It says that in April 1861, when the shots were fired at Fort Sumter from Fort Johnson, that was a signal to this fort to open fire on Fort Sumter as well," Honey added.

"We should be able to see Fort Sumter then." Sure enough, when the girls scanned the horizon, about a mile out in the harbor was Fort Sumter, flags flying high.

"Apparently the fort was actually rebuilt after the revolution and this structure that we’re standing on, or in – I can’t honestly figure out which – is the third such structure. It was built in 1809 and except for the walls that have been removed from damage due to bombardment, remains as it did then."

"Now this is really neat," Honey continued. "The fort was maintained until 1947 just incase of attack. It was out of date but would provide easy and cheap defense if needed. 1947 was two years after World War II ended."

"It’s kind of disheartening when you think about it."

"What do you mean," Honey asked, turning towards her friend.

"We went from cannon and guns at the beginning of a war and ended it with the ultimate weapon of mass destruction thereby making forts such as this obsolete. I mean, not that anything used to kill is good, but at least individuals had a chance with a cannon ball. With a nuclear bomb, tens of thousands can be killed in a split second. It’s just frightening and sad to think that the whole world is out to get one another, so much so that we even have to think along these lines – " Trixie finished her sentence on a gasp.

"What’s wrong Trix?

"Your father!"

Honey looked around her. "Trix, normally I can understand you, but I’m a little off today."

"Oh Honey, if my theory is correct – " she paused. "Why did I not think of this? If my theory is correct, your father is in danger."

Understanding dawned on Honey, paling her face. "If all those men have received notes, and something bad has happened to at least three of them, something could happen to daddy. Oh, Trixie, let’s go find the boys. Then we can figure out what to do."

Trixie nodded and they raced off to find the others, heedless of their promise to the ranger to be careful.

Chapter 12

Trixie and Honey had found the boys drooling over displays of World War I weapons in a dingy tunnel of Fort Moultrie’s underbelly. It took little to convince them of the need to inform Mr. Wheeler of their latest revelation, not knowing that he himself had long since thought of it. Making haste through the rest of the displays, they hurried to the car not even bothering to stop back inside the visitor’s center and were soon headed back on the road towards Charleston.

 

Meanwhile…

Mr. Wheeler had been making the rounds at the morning’s activities. Companies from all over the world were represented with displays and models of their proposed interests in turning Charleston into another gambling haven. Their booths covered the ballroom of the Omni Hotel.

Some of the representatives he knew personally, but most were entry level college graduates whose job it was to learn all they could about their company, enabling them to climb the corporate ladder. But like himself, there were also many men, the CEO’s of their companies, who he had met and associated with before. He was speaking with one such man now.

"Matt, how are you?"

"I’m fine David. And you?"

"Can’t complain, can’t complain. How is that beautiful wife of yours, son? And your daughter?"

Matthew Wheeler was one of the youngest of the Fortune 500 crowd and it was not unusual for someone to make a kind but condescending reference to his age. He was well known for his good business sense, but almost even more known for his age, good looks and beautiful family.

"They’re doing just fine. Madeline decided to stay home on this trip. She’s redecorating the place again, and Honey is actually here in Charleston with some of her friends."

"How old is Honey?" he inquired.

"She’ll be 15 towards the end of August."

"Ah, good, good. And your son, how is he doing. I only remember meeting him once at the Christmas party last December."

"Jim just graduated from high school actually. He’s here with Honey and we brought along two of their friends as somewhat of a graduation and birthday gift. He’ll turn 17 at the end of this week."

"Seventeen and already graduated high school. Well, Matt, he might not have come from your loins," the man joked with a hearty clap on Matt’s shoulder, "but he must have picked up your sense somehow," he finished, laughing.

The two men were quiet for a brief moment until Matt spoke. "David, what do you think about all the controversy surrounding this venture."

"Well, I haven’t thought too hard about it. We decided only to attend this week at the last minute and I myself was going to let Jack, my CFO, handle things. But he bowed out at the last minute. His wife’s having a baby and he didn’t want to leave her."

"So… you really haven’t paid it much attention?"

"No!" he boomed. "What’s a little controversy. It makes the blood run is all. Matt, I see Howard Greenman signaling to me. We agreed to meet for a few minutes before this afternoon’s slide presentation. We’ll meet up later for drinks, okay?"

Matthew Wheeler nodded and watched the man walk away, digesting the information, or lack thereof, that he had gained from his colleague. He circulated more through the crowd, looking for any more of his associates with whom he might glean some idea about whether or not any of them had received anything threatening. Although he had made it seem like he had placed no great stock in Trixie’s theory, even he had to admit that there was too much for the events that had happened to be bad luck or coincidence. Wonder of all wonders, he thought, their "detectiving" is rubbing off on me.

Making his way to the side of the room where a continental buffet of sorts had been spread, he filled a juice glass with orange juice and turned around when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Behind him stood a man not much older than he was.

"Matt? Jerry Lawrence – from the Cityguard Corporation."

"Oh, yeah, Jerry. It’s nice to see you again," Matt responded. "I hadn’t realized Cityguard would be here in Charleston."

"Yes, we decided to throw our names in for a few bids here and there. Security is a major factor in some of these casinos and who better to take care of it." His tone was modest but Matt knew that this man had made the Cityguard Corporation what it was and he also heard the pride in Jerry’s voice as he spoke. He had great respect for his business acumen. "I figured Wheeler International would be in the thick of things."

Matt laughed, pleased somewhat at his company’s reputation. "Actually it’s not WI directly. We bought out Dakotalina and managed to turn some things around when it looked like they might be going under. They’re thinking about throwing their hat in to the sludge and asked me to represent them here as I’m still CEO on paper, at least until the end of the year at which point in time, Garrett Julius becomes CEO and President."

"That’s good news," Jerry said, nodding his head. "He’s a good man."

Matt sighed. "And that’s really why he asked me to come down here I believe. He doesn’t want to start his term there on a controversial or bad note, and this of course has the potential to be both. But if I make the recommendations, well, the shareholders can question my business decisions all they want," he grinned.

"Good position to be in," Jerry finished, looking around him. Matt had noticed before that as they stood talking, Jerry would often glance around the room as if looking for someone… or something. He placed his arm on Jerry’s shoulder. "Jerry, is everything okay?"

Jerry turned towards Matt with a somewhat wary look in his eyes. "I’m not sure what you mean."

"Well forgive me for saying so but you’ve been as antsy as a cat ever since we started speaking."

Jerry looked across the room before he allowed his eyes to rest on Matt. Might we go some place a little more quiet?"

"Sure." They refilled their glasses from the pitchers and walked over to where one section of the ballroom had a balcony overlooking a courtyard.

"The skittishness you see is partly because of my job," he gave a small smile. By training, he was a security guard but had transformed a small security company into a huge firm from the ground up with little more than desire, will and a very small inheritance from a grandmother. "But it’s also because we’re concerned about this convention. I can’t say much more specifically – Matt let’s just say that it would be best if you looked out for yourself while here in Charleston. Short of giving that warning to everyone standing down stairs, I’m telling whom I can, and whom I think will heed it. There’s something not right about all this."

Matt was silent for a few moments. "And you can’t be any more specific than that?"

"I’m afraid not. You see, I’m not only here with designs on getting security contracts for the potential new venues, but Cityguard is providing the security for this event itself. I’m sorry Matt, but I can only say so much. Just… watch your back."

Matt’s eyes narrowed slightly. "People don’t know what they’re up against if they choose to go against me."

"It could be they do. Perhaps that’s why they might. You’re a powerful man, Matt. More modest than most but still at the top when it comes to success and fortune. Those are dangerous things to have down here right now. I’ll find you later."

Matt simply nodded, watching the man walk away. He continued to peruse the crowd from his spot on the balcony until a uniformed attendant came to him. "Matthew Wheeler?"

"Yes."

"Sir, you have a call at the concierge courtesy phone."

"Thank you." He followed the man to the desk near the front entrance to the hotel and picked up the phone, not noticing a man standing nearby listening to Matt’s end of the conversation.

"How?"

"When did this happen?"

"Tell me you’re kidding me."

"I’ll be right there." He hung up the phone more forcefully than was necessary. "I need a taxi," he said to the concierge.

"Immediately, sir." The man picked up his phone, punched a few buttons and asked for a cab. A few minutes later he was told it was just outside the door. He slid in and gave directions to the driver and was soon on his way thinking over and over again, I hope they’re all right.

Chapter 13

The taxi pulled up at the livery where Matt had stabled his horses. As he got out, he noticed that the rental vehicle of the Bob-Whites had already arrived. The paging he had received had been from Jim. Jim had taken a phone call on Matt’s mobile phone from the stable owner, Mr. Dawkins. The horses, he had said, were in danger. Jim promised to get in touch with his father and presently they all stood at the door to where the horses were kept.

"I’m sorry I had to reach you in such a roundabout way, and I really hope I haven’t pulled you away from something important, but I felt it would be best if you saw for yourself."

Matt could tell the man was terribly worried and nervous, and not only out of concern for the horses. He waved a hand at him, not willing to become irate until he knew more about the situation. "Why don’t you tell us what happened?"

"Well, we exercised the horses this morning as usual. Some of the boys mucked while this was going on and the horses were put away. We were tending to two sick horses just after this. Dr. Kyle Michaels, the vet, came in to help. We were with him in the third building over there," he pointed, "for a good half an hour. Peter, one of the boys, came out briefly to get something Kyle had left in his car. He says that he noticed a car that was in the drive but parked somewhat out of the way. No one had come in to see us and so he thought this to be strange. He also said that the door to the stable where we keep your horses was open. This is fairly unusual," he continued, as they stood by that same door, "because we try to keep at least the bottom half closed at all times. In any case, Peter went inside the stable and apparently was knocked unconscious by someone. We found him a few minutes later when he hadn’t returned."

"Where is the boy now?" Matt asked.

"We’ve got him inside the house, resting. I didn’t want to call the police until you had heard and seen what happened. I immediately checked the horses and they appeared to be fine." He hesitated. "But I found this." He held up a plastic bag. Inside they could see what appeared to be a syringe filled with an amber colored liquid.

"I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, Matt, and I don’t want to cause a panic, but I think whatever this is was meant for your horses. They’re the only ones in here."

Matt’s eyes narrowed. "And this was the only item of suspicion you found?"

"Yes. We’re assuming that Peter scared the man off. We heard a car drive out of here pretty quickly just before we came out to look for him. Shortly after this, he regained consciousness and told us what he had seen. I took the liberty of having Kyle check the horses. He found no evidence of puncture marks in any of them. Of course we only found one syringe and the intruder might have taken any others he had with him. So I sent some blood samples and Kyle is having them analyzed. The results should be back soon but his initial examination revealed no abnormal pupil dilation, reflexes or blood pressure."

Matt had been nodding while listening to Brandon Dawkins’ story. Regan and the Bob-Whites were performing their own cursory examination of the horses, if only to reassure themselves that they were indeed still there and alive.

"My question to you, Matt, would be, should we involve the police?"

Matt was silent for a moment and then answered, "call them in. We don’t have much to go on and as far as we know yet, no crime was actually committed against the horses. They’ll have it down on record though. But Peter might want to file an assault charge at the same time incase they do catch whomever it was."

Trixie motioned Honey aside while Honey’s father, Regan and Brandon went inside the house to phone. "So he does think something is going on," she said excitedly.

"It would appear so," Honey replied with worry in her voice. "Oh Trixie, if this is connected to the gambling thing and those other men who have been hurt, we were right. Daddy’s in danger."

"Or something important to him," Trixie mused. "In any case, we’re going to stop it."

"How?" Mart asked. Neither girl had noticed the boys come up behind them in the stable.

"By hunting for clues first of all," she answered. "Mart – you and Honey look around in here. Search the stable and stalls. Jim and I will go outside to see if we can find anything."

They split up and Trixie and Jim walked outside. "Do we know exactly where the car was parked?" Jim asked.

"Well, I noticed Mr. Dawkins motioning over in this direction as he spoke and there is a short branch of driveway that leads just past the back of this stable building. I noticed it yesterday when we were here. I’m assuming this is where the car was parked." She began to walk more slowly, searching the ground for clues.

"Well, I see tire tracks," she said uncertainly. "But I don’t guess that proves they’re from that particular car."

"I don’t know about that Trix. Over here those same tracks look like the car spun out a little when it left. The tracks head back in the direction of the road like someone turning a car pretty sharply at a fast pace."

Trixie crouched down low to the ground. Sure enough, in the sandy drive there were tracks indicating that a car had made a very hasty exit from the back of the stables. "Of course, the problem with sand is, while tire tracks are more consistent and go on for long enough to be identifiable, foot prints are more difficult to handle."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, look at this." She pointed to a slight depression in the sand, with a similar one next to it. "Doesn’t this look like someone’s shoe print – and that one as well? But the slightest wind will blow sand everywhere and practically take any identifying marks away. About the only thing we might be able to tell from these prints is the size of the shoes he was wearing."

"You’re assuming it’s a ‘he’."

She shrugged. "Whomever it was knocked Peter out cold. I suppose a female could have done that but isn’t cold-cocking someone a typically ‘man’ thing to do?" Trixie grinned up at him.

"Probably," he conceded with a smile. "At least we know these things are being done by a real person and that there is no ghost."

I’m not so sure of that, Trixie said to herself. Jim went on, not hearing her. "I’m chalking both occasions of seeing our ‘friend’ up to having too good of a time. I suppose the police could take a plaster cast of the tire tracks, or maybe even identify probable make and models from a photograph," he finished.

"We can ask when they get here. Let’s go inside and see what Honey and Mart found."

"They entered the stable door to find Honey and Mart crouched down in the empty stall next to Pancake. "Trixie, look at this. We found it in this stall. I guess Mr. Dawkins didn’t look for anything in the empty stalls," Honey said, not bothering to look behind her. She pointed to an object that was half embedded in the hay.

"What’s a horseshoe doing in here without a horse?" Trixie asked

"Look closer," Mart said.

"There’s a dark stain on it," Jim muttered. "Trix, that look like anything to you?"

"Blood," was the reply. "As much as I’d like to take the evidence for ourselves, there’s little use. Maybe the police can find out something. Hopefully he left some fingerprints," she looked up at Jim.

"I guess we’re about to find out."

He had been looking out the stable door where a Charleston Police Department squad car had just pulled up. They walked to the door in time to see Matt, Regan and Mr. Dawkins coming out of the house to meet the vehicle.

Two police officers stepped out of the car and headed towards the men. "Brandon, how are you?" one of the Officers said.

"A bit harried this morning, Todd. But hopefully we can turn things around now that you’re here." He turned towards Matt, Regan and the teenagers. "I’d like y’all to meet Todd Jenkins from the Charleston PD. He and some of the other officers have done freelance security for me before some of the big races. Todd – this is Matthew Wheeler, the owner of the horses I spoke to you about, his groom, Regan, children Honey and Jim, and their friends Trixie and Mart."

Todd Jenkins shook hands with them as he was introduced and he in turn introduced his partner, Jake Woods. "You mentioned a man was hurt earlier today, probable foul play? We’ll need to get his story."

"Well Peter’s inside. He seems to have recovered sufficiently enough to talk. He’s even added a little to his story. We can take you inside."

Meanwhile, Trixie had been bouncing up and down. Matt looked over at her. "Yes, Trixie, what is it?"

"While you were inside, we sort of looked around and found some things," she said almost shyly. Her past experiences in dealing with the police weren’t stellar. Apparently Matt remembered this as well.

"Trixie. What Lieutenant Ogilvie told you in Mississippi applies here too." A wry grin softened his words. "However, to avoid you chasing down these clues yourself – what might you be talking about?"

"Well, we’d have to show you," she said, looking around at the others while Officer Jenkins tried to hide a grin.

"Woods – why don’t you accompany Miss – "

"Belden."

"Miss Belden and her friends. I’ll go inside and speak with Peter."

Officer Woods nodded and began to follow the Bob-Whites while Officer Jenkins walked with Mr. Dawkins, Mr. Wheeler and Regan into the house.

Chapter 17

Almost as soon as it had appeared however, it was gone and replaced with one of intense sadness. "My Jeremy fought so long and hard to keep that vile habit away from these shores," she said, almost to herself. "And now it looks as though it will happen anyway. But enough about that – I’m sure it’s the last thing you young folks want to hear about."

Trixie started to mention that it was she herself who had in fact brought up the subject, but a sharp look from Mart gave her pause and she kept silent. Honey merely waved her hands down to the floor as if to say, "pipe down, I’ll handle it."

"The next place I want to show you is somewhat of a Charleston landmark. You can’t go back up north without taking a painting, shirt or wicket of Rainbow Row with you."

A wicket? Jim looked at Honey while raising one eyebrow. She smiled, and shrugged.

"Rainbow Row encompasses the buildings on East Bay from 107 down to 79. Notice that they are all multi-story attached buildings. They were built in the 1700’s during the time when shopkeepers preferred to live above their places of business. We call them attached houses, much like you’d have an apartment today, but these are indeed houses."

"The colors are magnificent!" Honey exclaimed. She tended to have a more appreciative eye for these things when compared to either of the boys or Trixie, who appeared to be much more fascinated with the upcoming view of Charleston Harbor than the pink, blue, yellow, lavender and green pastel houses. "And people still live in these?"

"Absolutely."

"How wonderful that must be," she said dreamily.

"Note, if you will, the circular pieces that appear to be sticking out of the end of each of the houses with points in their centers. After the earthquake in 1886, many houses had these placed in to add further support, and they appear to have served hem well. While Charleston has not had another earthquake since then, we have survived many hurricanes, which can often be just as damaging. The city is due for another quake at any moment though, so stay a while and then come back and help us as we try to pick up the pieces." It was easy to tell that this woman loved her city very much.

"We’re now at the beginning of the High Battery, called the East Battery for the direction in which it faces. If you’ll look to our left, you will see Charleston Harbor and Fort Sumter guarding it’s entrance, and to our right, the high battery homes. Many of these date from the 1700’s and there are many of even more notable historic interest. I’ll point them out as we move along."

She told them many stories of the homes that they were passing, all of which were tall and stately. Nearing the end of the street at the park that they had left their car at their first night in town, she stopped the carriage once more.

"This is the Edmondston-Alston House, of 21 East Battery. It was owned by a family of rice planters who made their dynasty, as did many others, from the rice and cotton crops. The mansion was built in 1825 and is actually still owned and inhabited by members of the Alston family. You may take tours on certain days. Inside, you will find beautiful architecture and antiques. The south is often stereotyped for it’s cotton crops but people often forget that rice was a huge plantation crop as well." She skillfully pulled the horses back into the line of traffic and made a right turn.

"This is the South Battery. Here you will again find many antebellum homes and the land boundary to White Point Gardens. I mentioned this earlier in conjunction with the founding of Charleston. Because of the huge oyster beds upon which it sits, it was formerly called Oyster Point and marks the convergence of the Ashley and Cooper Rivers and hence, the pinnacle of the Charleston Peninsula. Folks, we are at the point of the city. The park is the site of many wedding receptions, joggers, historic cannon and memorial plaques and is one of the best places in the city for a picnic. Overlooking the harbor is the seawall on which you can walk and I do recommend you do so if you haven’t yet. Just don’t do it at night."

Jim looked to the others with a ‘I told you so’ smile. The carriage drove a short way down the street and again turned right onto Meeting Street. Meeting is yet another of Charleston’s popular streets. There is much to see and do."

"Aren’t we staying on Meeting?" Trixie asked aloud.

"Where are you staying?" Jo asked.

"The Mills House," Honey replied.

"Ohh, that’s a nice one. A little ways up Meeting, we are, but we’ll be going just past it," she smiled. She pointed out a building that sat on the corner of the South Battery and Meeting Street. "This is Two meeting Street Inn. It was completed in 1892 and has been touted as one of the most romantic bed and breakfasts in the country. In 1890, a Charleston jeweler by the name of Waring Carrington, asked one Martha Williams for her hand in marriage. Her father, a merchant named George Williams, must have approved of the union because over 2500 invitations were sent out. It was Charleston society’s event of the year. He furthermore presented the young couple with a check for $75,000 to build a new home on land he had purchased at the corner of Meeting and S. Battery. We are now looking at the result of that money. It was quite the wedding gift. It is Queen Anne in style with Tiffany stained glass, English Oak woodwork, and crystal chandeliers. It would be a great honeymoon spot if any of you young people are ever so inclined."

While Mart and Honey looked at each other with grins, Trixie and Jim avoided each other’s eyes. The carriage continued up Meeting Street. Yvette talked about the Calhoun Mansion at 16 Meeting, formerly home to John C. Calhoun, a United States Vice-President and staunch proponent of states’ rights, and the Nathaniel Russell House which dated to 1808, having been built by a Rhode Island Merchant. Jim and Mart were aching to return to tour that house which featured the marvelous architecture of a three story free standing spiral staircase.

When they reached the intersection of Broad and Meeting, Yvette pulled the carriage over in front of a huge white church. "Now are ya planning to take in the services while you’re in town?"

Jim looked briefly around at the others. They had not discussed going to church while in town. "Is there somewhere you’d recommend?" he asked with a grin.

"Here," she said, making another grand gesture to the large church, "This is St. Michael’s Episcopal Church. It’s a National Historic Landmark and is the oldest church building in Charleston. It was also the first church building south of Virginia to house an Anglican congregation. St. Phillips Episcopal Church has the distinction as a body of people being an established church longer, but that building there at 80 Meeting was the first formal place of worship.

"The church opened for services in 1761 and the building itself largely remains as it was then. The architecture is similar to that by Sir Christopher Wren of the Colonial period. The steeple is 186 feet high, having sank a full 8 inches during the 1886 earthquake. George Washington worshipped here in 1791 as President. General Robert E. Lee has also been a guest. People were more serious about their faith back then," she added dryly, smiling to herself at the chagrined looks of the young people in her charge.

"The chandelier inside was imported from London in 1803. When you go inside and I suggest you do, even if not for worship, you will notice immediately that the pulpit is located at the beginning of the pews in a very prominent place, more prominent even than the altar. This attests to the fact that at the time of St. Michaels was built, there was a large debate at seemingly placing more emphasis on the sermon than the place of sacrifice.

"The decorative stained glass in the chancel, where the altar is located, was completed in 1893 and depicts St. Michael casting out the dragon, a scene from Raphael’s famous painting."

"Di would love that," Honey whispered to Trixie.

"The pipe organ is original, having been installed in 1768. In 1994 it was restored to it’s original configuration after several alterations. The clock tower is thought to be one of the oldest functioning ones in the country, having been useful since 1764.

"Now – the church itself has wonderful history as well. During the revolution, the white tower was painted black because British gunrunners liked to aim for it. This unfortunately made it even more visible against a Carolina blue sky. The lead roof was melted down and used to make bullets to aid in the war effort. During later years, the steeple was used as a navigational landmark, observation post and fire lookout. The bells of the tower were sent to Columbia for safe keeping during the Civil War but were cracked in the 1865 fire and had to be recast in England in their original molds.

"The place of the church’s location holds significance as well. Notice around you these buildings. The United States Post Office sits to our left," she pointed. "The Charleston County Courthouse is catty corner to us. And Charleston City Hall is across the street from us. Here we have Federal Law, County Law, City law, and most importantly, God’s Law. This intersection is called the – "

"Four Corners of Law!" Mart shouted. "At Broad and Meeting. This is what you wanted us to remember, isn’t it?" he asked.

"You learn quickly. Indeed it is. The entrance to the old walled city was at this very intersection where the laws all meet. You can see how the city has grown a bit since then," she grinned. She picked up the reins and moved the horse down the street.

"There’s our hotel," Honey exclaimed.

"The Mill’s House hotel is one of the, if not the most respected in Charleston."

"We can certainly see why. It’s been wonderful," Trixie said.

"Whomever picked it for y’all to stay in certainly had great taste. When my Jeremy was alive, he’d take me to the Barbadoes Room each year on our anniversary. Said there was no place that was more like Charleston." She glanced away from it quickly, mumbling to herself. And these whippersnappers want to come here and change it all. They don’t know what they’re up against. Trixie strained her ears to catch what the woman was saying. Mart, sitting almost directly behind Yvette, winked at Trixie to let her know that he had heard and that he’d share it with her later.

"We’re almost to the Circular Congregational Church at 150 Meeting, also a Historic Landmark. Though this is the third building on the site, it dates from 1892. The original congregation from 1881 was composed of English Congregationalists, Scotch and Irish Presbyterians and French Huguenots who banded together to form this somewhat independent church. The first building of 1695 was called the White Meeting House and the street it sat on became known as Meeting Street. At the beginning of the 1800’s, Robert Mills, a Charlestonian who was known to be one of the first American-born architects, designed a circular structure reminiscent of Greek revival temples. Mills, by the way, later went on to design the Washington monument that now stands in the District of Columbia. The circular church structure was burned in 1861 and was left in ruins until it was completely destroyed by the earthquake in 1886. The current church was built using bricks from the older structures and the grounds contain the city’s oldest graveyard. One marker remains from the 1600’s. Today, the church is associated with the United Presbyterian Church, USA."

"Why is it circular?" Jim asked.

"I can answer that," Mart broke in.

Trixie reached over and placed a hand over her almost twin’s mouth. "We know you can" she smiled, "but we’d like Yvette to."

Yvette smiled around at them. "I see we have a smart one here. Well it’s said that the reason church structures were made circular is so that the devil could not hide in the corners. " She sighed and continued sarcastically," so he runs rampant through the city where no amount of prayer and religion can will him away."

There was silence in the carriage. "I apologize," she said. "I’m letting my troubles run away with my mouth."

"Yvette," Honey spoke up. "Perhaps it would help to talk about what’s going on… how you’re feeling. We’d be more than happy to listen. Perhaps we might even be able to help. Would you like to eat lunch with us after the tour?"

Yvette gave another sigh as she drew the reins to move. "I’d like that. It’s been a long time since I have had anyone to really talk to. I only will have a short lunch break but if you’re sure it would be no trouble?"

"None at all," Honey finished, looking for the others to confirm. After a brief moment, Yvette nodded and the tour continued.

Chapter 18

Yvette mentioned to them other points of interest as they wound their way back to the carriage house. They included the Dock Street Theater, the French Huguenot Church, the Old Slave Mart, the Edward Rutledge House, home of the youngest signer of the Declaration of Independence, St. Phillip’s Episcopal Church and the College of Charleston which was the oldest municipal college in the United States. It was after noon when the carriage pulled up and rolled to a stop outside the door they had left over three hours before.

"I’ll run in and get my things and let them know I’ll be back shortly," she said, hopping down.

"Let’s let Yvette suggest a place to eat," Honey said. "She might know of some places that you wouldn’t really find in the guide books."

"Sounds like a plan," Mart said excitedly.

"If it has to do with food, it’s a plan, Mart," Jim grinned.

"You know what the funniest thing about all this teasing is," Mart replied. "Is that you all love food as much as I do."

"We can’t deny that, dear brother. But you have the monopoly on food consumption," Trixie answered while smiling at Jim. Fortunately, Yvette walked out of the building just then.

"Where to folks? She said I could go ahead and take as long as I want. She still doesn’t think I’m up to being here," she snorted indelicately.

"We were hoping that you could suggest some place kind off the tourist map," Honey said warmly.

"Well," Yvette murmured. For once shy as she was asked her opinion, "I suppose if we’re going to talk about my Jeremy, we should go to one of his favorite places. Poogan’s Porch is a Charleston favorite for everyone, locals and tourists alike. It’s a bit on the fancy side and you’re supposed to have reservations but they know me pretty well. I think I can charm them into letting us in," she finished softly. "That is, if you’re interested. It’s low country cuisine and the chef is outstanding."

"It sounds perfectly perfect," Honey said, linking arms with Yvette. "Why don’t you lead the way."

They walked up the street until they reached Meeting. Turning left, they proceeded down Meeting until Queen and turned right, shortly coming to a stop before a beautiful old Charleston mansion. A sign out front had the words "Poogan’s Porch" written in script. There was a balcony on which they could see tables set with fine silver and linens. Yvette led them up the steps and into the foyer of home.

Just inside the door, standing behind a podium and talking with one of the hosts, was a young man of average height and build, but rather distinguished looking with shoulder length black hair tied back in a pony tail. His black eyes looked warmly at Yvette. Wordlessly he walked to her and enfolded her in his arms, merely needing to look into her eyes to know that she was indeed okay.

The embrace lasted a few more seconds and he pulled away with a smile. "Five for dinner?"

"Always so formal Jonathan, always so formal. Yes. These are my friends from out of town, New York to be exact. This is Trixie and her brother Mart, and Jim and his sister Honey. They took a carriage ride this morning and on the way, we got to know each other a little bit so here we are."

"And you have come to the right place. Right this way." He led them up the stairs and to the balcony they had glanced at on their way in. There was no one seated on it yet and after pulling out chairs for Trixie, Honey and Yvette, he walked briefly over to a serving cart and delivered goblets of water to the table along with a basket of homemade bread and menus. "Our chef’s special for lunch is the apple encrusted shrimp served on a bed of low country rice and peppers with a sweet yet spicy glazed crabapple sauce. It comes with steamed seasonal vegetables."

He turned away to go back into the house while Trixie and Mart’s eyebrows shot up as they looked at each other.

Honey giggled. "Well, I think it’s decided that one of you has to have the special."

Trixie laughed. "If it’s good we can talk to the chef and get the recipe. The name of our farm is Crabapple Farm," Trixie explained to Yvette who was looking around at the group with curiosity. "We have dozens of old crabapple trees and moms is always trying to think of new ways to serve them."

"Well we can certainly call him in and ask," she smiled just as Jonathan reappeared.

"I will be happy to take drink and appetizer orders at this time."

"I believe I’ll have an iced tea," Jim said.

Jonathan smiled. "And because you are from New York, shall I presume that you wish it to be unsweetened?"

Jim laughed. "Well, when in Rome. Make it however people down here drink it."

"And for you, Mart?"

"That sounds good to me as well."

"Very good. Ladies?"

From Honey and Yvette he received two orders for water with lemon while Trixie broke the mold and asked for Strawberry pop.

"Trixie, something tells me that might not be a commodity in a restaurant like this," Mart laughed.

"Ah, but we do have it. It’s amazing what type of beverages you can find in a restaurant that has a stocked bar," Jonathan grinned. "And now, in the way of appetizers?"

"What do you recommend?" Jim asked.

"If you’re adventurous and really desiring to be like the locals, the Carolina Alligator, to be sure. It comes with buttermilk dill-butter and a honey jalapeno sauce. The Fried Green Tomatoes are also a southern delicacy. They are served with pecan encrusted goat cheese and spicy peach chutney. If you like seafood, the Oysters Queen Street is heavenly and is eaten with smoked bacon zuccotash, tomato sauce and Monterey Jack cheese. I would highly recommend any or all of those."

Jim looked around at the group. "Guys, what do you think? I think they all sound great. I’d have a hard choice deciding."

"Then I say we don’t." Mart said happily. "Let’s get them all."

"Mart," Trixie said warningly, trying hard not to laugh.

"Why not. If we find out they’re really great, we can tell Mr. Wheeler and come back tonight as well."

Jim rolled his eyes and looked sideways at Honey who gave a barely perceptible shrug and smile. "Okay, we’ll order all three. I am pretty hungry myself," he winked at Trixie.

"Excellent choices," Jonathan said, nudging Yvette gently with his hand as he left with their order, noticing that she was having difficulties refraining from laughing.

"Every man for himself when it comes to the entrée," Jim laughed.

"That’s going to be equally as hard," Trixie said. "Everything looks so wonderful. I think it’s about time I try some grits again. Still don’t know about them, but this would be a place to try them. I think the pork medallions and slow cooked grits are sounding good to me."

"Trix, I might have to carry you home if you get tipsy. They’re made with peach brandy you know," Jim teased her.

"Like she’d object to that," Mart whispered to Honey, who let out a rather unladylike laugh.

"Oops," she said. "Ahem. I think after all the appetizers that I’ll take it easy on the entrée. "This Chef Nick’s Crab and Sweet Corn Chowder looks good. That and a small salad should do it for me. I want to try this peach poppyseed dressing."

"We might have to carry you home as well. Doesn’t opium come from poppy’s?" Trixie asked.

There was laughter around the table. "You’re right, Trix, but I’m not sure what the seeds have to do with the flower. I think she’ll be allright. But you’re right in that pork does sound good. I’m eyeing the tenderloin myself. Something about this Creole marinade just sounds interesting."

"Tenderloin," Trixie mumbled. "You just have to be different."

"Oh don’t worry, now that I’m accustomed to grits, I’ll be eating off your plate as well."

"Careful. You’ll turn into my brother, the garbage disposal."

"Well we couldn’t have that now, could we," he said under his breath to her, merely smiling when she raised huge eyes to him. "Yvette, what sounds good to you. And I want you to get whatever you want, this is our treat."

"Oh, no, I couldn’t do that." She was interrupted by a chorus of insistent pleas from the rest of the group. "Well, if you insist. I can’t resist the Pesto Penne. There is just something about the combination of the shrimp, pesto, sundried tomatoes and basil cream that he gets just right every time. And I’ll have a salad too if that’s okay." Jim waved a hand as if to suggest it was no trouble at all.

"Which leaves me," Mart said. "And I decided to get the special when Jonathan first mentioned it."

"Perfect. Chef will be pleased." Jonathan had returned with their appetizers to hear the tail end of Mart’s remark. "Miss Honey, what may I get for you?" he asked after all had been able to reach and help themselves to the alligator, tomato and oyster dishes.

The group gave their orders one by one, marveling in the way in which Jonathan had not only remembered their choices but their names as well. "He is amazing," Yvette confirmed with a smile. He’s been rather like a son to Jeremy and I. That is, until Jeremy passed."

"Would you like to share what’s on your heart?" Honey said softly. "Please don’t think you have to, but it might help."

Yvette looked up at her and smiled. "Jeremy was such a loving man. He had your disposition. We met and married in such a short amount of time, as was often the case back then and I have never regretted it for a moment. We had three beautiful children. And they grew from infants to toddlers to children so fast you could almost see it.

But one day everything changed. We had gone to the ocean to swim in the surf. Jeremy thought it was important to teach our children from a very young age how to swim and so we had brought them up in the surf, but at 8, 7 and 4, they were still novices. As he played in the water with the oldest two of our children, he was bitten by what they later found out was a tiger shark. It’s not unusual for them to be in these waters, and they even swim up the two Charleston rivers. He cried out. They are rather painful things and he wasn’t sure exactly what it was that had happened but he was having trouble staying on his feet he later said. Blood was covering his limb when he lifted it out of the water.

Kevin, the youngest of the two, being fearful as children often are when they don’t understand something, backed further and further away from his father as Jeremy tried to figure out what had happened. Libby, a little more mature and naturally concerned for her dad tried to hang on to his arm to help him. Neither one of them noticed that Kevin had backed so far out into the surf that he was in a dangerous situation until Jeremy turned and saw the lifeguard on shore running into the water, yelling and pointing. This was about the point that I noticed something had gone terribly wrong.

Everything from then on seemed to happen in slow motion. A wave knocked Kevin down. He must have swallowed a great deal of water. As the lifeguard, and Jeremy who was trying to get Libby to run for the shore and myself, finally reached Kevin, they found him face down in the water. The lifeguard pulled him out and carried him to shore. It was confusing because by this time people were all over the place, trying to help but doing more harm than good, and I had only just reached Libby. Two lifeguards performed CPR for what seemed like hours. But I know it could only have been five minutes before the ambulance arrived. I still don’t know who called for it. Kevin was taken to the hospital but pronounced dead upon arrival. The whole thing took about 6 minutes. It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds, Jeremy said from the time he felt the pain of the bite to the time that he and the lifeguard reached Kevin. He had been carried out even farther. But as we were told later, 30 second is all it takes sometimes.

Jeremy was in shock by the time they reached the shore with Kevin. I remember him just sort of numbly watching and crying as they worked. He lost consciousness on the way to the hospital here in town because of blood loss and his mental state I would imagine. He didn’t even know until an hour or so later when he regained consciousness, what had happened.

A freak accident, it was called. We never blamed anyone, because we didn’t think there was anyone to blame. It was just the time for it to have happened. We coped. If for no other reason than we had to. Libby and Sandy, our youngest survived and we’re a close family, and of course we met Jonathan a few years after that. He was the child of one of my best friends who had lost her husband in a plane crash. But I know that one day when they have children, which should be very soon for both of my girls, memories will resurface and they will have to contend with some rather painful things. They were resigned to living without a brother and I, without my son. Jeremy… Jeremy was a different story. He accepted what had happened because he had no other choice. But something changed in him that haunted us throughout the rest of our life together. And that something is continuing to this day, even though he is no longer on this earth."

Trixie and the others had been sitting at rapt attention, feeling both pain for the woman and what she had experienced, and curiosity as to how it all related to the present day. A gentle breeze blew across the high-topped roofs of Charleston. But Trixie sensed that some significant and perhaps ominous news was about to happen at their table. Noticing that Jonathan was about to deliver their main courses, she refrained from making any comment, merely noticing that even though the breeze was of the hot, moist air of Charleston, she was shivering.

 

Chapter 19

As Jonathan was about to depart again, Yvette reached out and took his arm. "Stay. You can can’t you, just for a few minutes?"

He hesitated. "Well, I did the breakfast shift so I am due for a break. Let me go ask Monica to take over some of my shifts and I will be back."

"He knows the whole story as well. And frankly as I have never told anyone this, I thought it might do to have some support. Some of what I have to say might sound a bit farfetched."

"Oh we’ve seen and heard it all," Mart said. "Why take my little sister here…"

"How about we not take me and instead listen to what Yvette has to say," Trixie broke in before Mart could continue. Yvette merely smiled and looked up as Jonathan returned. He sat down with a glass of tea in his hands and a new bread basket.

"Jonathan – I think these people need to hear the story of Jeremy, The whole story."

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

"After Kevin died, Jeremy became, shall we say, sensitized to the needs of people in danger. He’d have premonitions that something tragic was about to happen and it affected him to the point of physically hurting when something was going on. Sometimes he would even be able to figure out what was going to happen and try to reach the person or situation. This might seem like a gift to you and indeed it might have been. But Jeremy never saw it that way. You see, he never once reached the person that was in need… until it was too late. Once he felt that a woman’s life was in danger from a rapist. He found the alley where it had happened. She was alive but had been beaten and raped only minutes before. He sensed at another time that something was going terribly wrong with a drug sting and called the police station only to find out that casualties had happened and been heavy. It took us months to convince the Charleston PD that we had known nothing about the drug operation, but only were having an "ESP" moment. I think they wrote Jeremy off as crazy. So without going much more into his ability, that’s the way our life has been. I don’t think he ever really forgave himself for never being able to get to the victim on time." She paused, looking at Jonathan who was slowly shaking his head in affirmation. "And that’s the way he died. The morning he went to work on the site… he was so proud of being placed on the bridge project. The twin spans are very characteristic of the look of Charleston, but they are simply unsafe. He was proud to be able to help the city build the new one. But before he left that last day, he told me to take care of myself. He never said that, ever. It was always good bye or I love you, or I’ll see you later. ‘Take care of yourself’ was the phrase we used when we weren’t planning on seeing someone for a very long time. I think he even had ESP about his own death. Late that afternoon he fell from the highest part of the bridge they were working on and died from the impact."

The silence at the table was overwhelming. Everyone had stopped eating, looking down at their plate. Yvette merely looked out at the building across the street for a few minutes. Suddenly, as if shaking herself out of something, she sat up and began to eat. "I think about him all the time. But I believe in nothing but that it was simply his time to depart this earth. I don’t believe that his work is finished however."

"How so?" Trixie asked with growing excitement, almost sure that she knew what she was about to hear.

"Jeremy loved Charleston. We were both brought up here and though there is a fine line separating those who live in the district on one side of the fence from those on the other side, if you know what I mean, the common bond of having ancestors here for generations brings us together. Charleston natives recognize the bond of sharing a love for this city. He hated it when anything horrible happened here and had, perhaps an overblown to some extent, sense of protectiveness for it."

"This is where the gambling comes in," Trixie asked softly, leaning forward.

Yvette took a sip of her drink. Looking at Trixie over the top of her glass she said, "you’re a shrewd one. Yes, if I actually thought he was in it, Jeremy would be rolling over in his grave at the thought of the meetings this week concerning the gambling. It would ruin Charleston and everything it has stood for over 300 years. And that’s why I know that though his body might be lying in St. Michael’s cemetery, his spirit is right here with us trying to stop it. He won’t leave this earth until his work is done," she finished almost defiantly as if daring them to disagree with her.

"Have you seen him?" This question came from Jim.

"No. But I think you have."

Jim was quiet. "Perhaps. I don’t know that we could describe him, but whatever it is, excuse me… whomever it is does seem to appear in conjunction with the tragedies that have been plaguing this city ever since we got here."

"Since before you got here," she corrected. "Jeremy’s death was no accident. Who do you think spear headed the anti-gambling campaign before it was turned over to a professional manager? And does he show up before the event or after it?"

"So far as we have been able to tell, after. Although pretty close to."

"Exactly. He’s still trying to prevent. And he’s just not making it. When have you seen him and describe him? Please," she asked earnestly.

Jim looked at Trixie, not quite believing he was about to discuss the possibility of a specter as frankly as if such ghost were dining right beside him. He shrugged. "Well, the first time we saw him was the night that the fumes at the ballpark hurt so many people."

"One of those people was a pretty significant player in the gambling controversy," Mart added.

"Jeremy wouldn’t hurt people to get his way," Yvette looked up sharply.

"The second time we saw him was out on the beach when the boat belonging to the millionaire blew up. He was sitting on top of our car. I got a better look at him this time than last time, but still not a detailed one. Just the figure of a man, albeit a glowing one. He was glowing bright red that time. The first time it was just an aura of light around him. Now that I think of it, we never saw him in conjunction with the bridge collapse."

"Maybe you just didn’t notice."

"That’s possible."

"Someone tried to harm our horses. Our father bought some from Aiken and we have them stabled here until we head back up north. The person who discovered it says he noticed a bright shining light, but he never saw what it was coming from."

"Were the horses hurt?"

"No, not that we know of."

Yvette breathed a sigh of relief. "Then perhaps he made it this time – " She stopped abruptly. "What is your father here for?"

Although Jim had known that by telling their story, it would eventually lead to this side of the conversation, he had to admit that he was not quite prepared for it. "He represents a company that is investigating the feasibility of extending their business to Charleston if the gambling is approved."

Jonathan had been silent up to this point but now let out a slow whistle. "Oh my."

"I’m not saying that we are all in agreement on what we think should happen here, but I don’t see it as relative."

"It’s relative in that he was obviously a target for whoever wants to end the proposal."

"Yvette, if the reason all of these things are happening is to make the people who are potentially going to benefit from gambling here, vote against it, why would Jeremy be fighting against them? They’d want the same thing. I know you said he’d never harm anyone to get his way, but even you must admit how this looks," Honey asked.

"I know. And you’re right, it does seem odd. But I know that he would rather see gambling on Charleston’s waters, than hurt a human soul. He spent too much of his life trying to protect lives."

"Do we know for sure that these people committing the crimes are trying to stop the gambling?" Mart asked, having finished his meal. Looking around to see what he could scout from someone else’s plate he added, "perhaps they are trying to scare the people into voting for the proposal."

"I’d think they’d be targeting people who were dead set against it," Jonathan commented. "All of the people so far, your father perhaps being the exception, are those who have expressed positive interest in having the gambling coming here. I am rather curious about the fact that the attack on his horses was on such a small scale compared to the baseball game, bridge and boat."

"Father just bought three racing horses whose potential worth has been highly appraised. Should anything happen to them, the insurance company pay out would range in the millions. In any case, father loves animals and would be more concerned about their welfare than the money."

"Ah. Well that does indeed explain things."

"But I also question this – why us?"

"Jeremy had an amazing ability even before Kevin to discern people’s hearts. Perhaps he has even more access to this sensation now that he’s no longer alive. I don’t even have to know much more about y’all to know that you’re well intentioned people and that perhaps you have a history of helping others?"

The four youngsters blushed. "And we’d like to help your husband, too. But to be honest, we have no idea where to begin. We’ve only see his presence. We haven’t had any idea who these people are or where they will strike next," Trixie said softly.

"But you’re the people Jeremy has chosen. I know you will help him and we will end up winning in the end."

"Yvette, please don’t think me disrespectful. But while I do not share his views, we do have our father to consider," Jim gestured to himself and Honey.

Yvette merely leaned back in her chair, pointing out something on a menu for Jonathan to bring back, who had gotten up to leave. "Yes. Yes you do. And would this not be the best way to prevent him from coming to harm?"

Jim nodded his head once in concession. "I see your point. But I still stand with my reservations."

"And they are noted." She sighed. "I must get back now, but I took the liberty of having Jonathan bring you a special treat. Please contact me when you have more information. And if you have a chance to see my Jeremy again… tell him hello." She stood up, her voice wavering. "Thank you for lunch. I know we’ll talk again before you leave Charleston." And she was gone.