The Phantom of Nantucket Read online

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.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  A Man with a Past

  BESS, GEORGE, MARNI, AND I WALKED BACK to the museum as fast as we could. “Poor Jenna,” Bess moaned.

  I wondered if Connor had leaked the information to the press after I’d let it slip to him that the figurehead was missing. I was really botching this case! I was going to have to apologize profusely to Jenna.

  We turned the corner onto Broad Street from Beach Street. Half a block ahead a large crowd had gathered on the sidewalk in front of the museum.

  “What do you think is going on?” Bess asked.

  None of us had an answer. Without saying a word, the four of us picked up our pace.

  Even closer to the action, it was still hard to figure out exactly what was happening, but people were in line, pushing and shoving to get to the front. Amid all the yelling, I could make out people shouting about tickets.

  I tapped the shoulder of the man directly in front of me. “What’s going on?” I shouted over the noise.

  “Apparently, there’s been a robbery at the museum! We’re all buying tickets to the opening reception tonight.”

  I still didn’t follow. “Why would you want tickets if there’s been a theft?”

  The man looked at me like I was dumb. A woman behind me leaned over my shoulder. “First the sign, now the theft,” she said. “Something big is going to happen at this reception, and I am going to be here to see what it is!”

  The man in front of me nodded in agreement. “This is going to be the biggest story on the island tomorrow morning. Everybody who’s anybody will be there.”

  “So you’re trying to get tickets to see something bad happen at the museum so you can gossip about it?” I asked, making sure I understood what they were saying. Both the man and the woman nodded. I stormed back to my friends, furious. Jenna had worked so hard on this exhibit, and now all these people just wanted to see her fail. “Let’s find Jenna,” I said.

  Marni checked the time. “I gotta go,” she said. “My grandfather
and I play chess every Saturday afternoon.”

  “Okay,” I said. “We’ll see you at the reception.” Marni nodded before heading off.

  “I think it’s great how close she is with her grandfather,” Bess observed. I agreed. It was nice to see.

  “Ugh, this thing is leaking,” George muttered, holding out the ice pack with water running down her arm.

  Bess glared at her. “Don’t you dare take that off your head,” she said sternly.

  “It’s been twenty minutes!” George protested as she found a trash can and threw it away.

  We pushed our way through the crowd and up the stairs to the entrance. We did a quick search of the museum but didn’t spot Jenna.

  “I’ll text her,” Bess offered.

  “I’m going to the bathroom while we wait,” George announced.

  After a moment, Jenna responded that they were in the staff room, and George emerged from the bathroom in her normal clothes.

  “George!” Bess said.

  “They’re barely damp,” George countered. Bess tugged at George’s clothes and grudgingly agreed.

  “Are we all set?” I asked. The girls nodded and we made our way to the staff room. Both Pete and Jenna were there. Jenna looked completely spent. She was slumped in a chair, her face pale and gaunt. I couldn’t blame her. Her worst fears were coming true. Pete, on the other hand, was pacing, full of energy, like a kid after eating an entire bag of Halloween candy.

  “Nancy Drew, the girl detective!” he greeted me with a big smile on his face.

  “You seem happier than I expected,” I said.

  “Have you seen the crowds outside?” he asked, beaming. “We haven’t had this much attention about any of our exhibits in years.” He turned to Jenna. “Was I right about the power of negative publicity or what?”

  Jenna gave him a wan smile. “But now there’s no hiding it from Mr. Whitestone. He’ll know we lost the figurehead.”

  “That’s not true,” Pete said. “Right now all the newspaper has is a rumor. They have no proof that anything is missing. As long as the figurehead is back by the time he arrives, Mr. Whitestone will just commend us for turning out such a big crowd. He won’t care how we did it.” I knew then that Pete wasn’t going to call the police, and he definitely wasn’t going to close the exhibit. He loved the excitement and the attention this was bringing. So far this was all good news for the museum.

  His phone rang, and he stepped away to answer it. “I’ll be right there,” he said, turning back to us. “They need my help selling tickets up front,” he told us, beaming. He looked directly at me as he left the room. “Nancy, my dear. I am counting on you. Find that figurehead!”

  “He’s very optimistic about how all this will work out.” I said, not understanding why Pete wasn’t more concerned.

  “That’s just Pete,” Jenna said with a sigh. “He always believes in people. It’s why he gave me this chance in the first place. Most museum directors would never have given me this opportunity. Maybe they’d be right.”

  “No,” Bess said firmly. “You did a terrific job. We’re going to figure this out. Nancy has a lot of leads. We just need to finish tracking them all down.” My stomach sank. I had a lot of leads, but no sense of where they went. I hoped Bess wasn’t giving Jenna false hope.

  “Who are your top suspects?” Jenna asked.

  “All right,” I said. George whipped out her laptop and started to take notes. “Kelsey is still a suspect,” I said. “You two have a history. She would directly ­benefit from you not getting the job. If her keys really were stolen, though, she didn’t have a way of accessing the display case.”

  “Who else could it be?” Jenna asked.

  “There’s Jeremiah Butler. He would love to see Pete and the museum embarrassed, plus he admitted that he wanted the figurehead for his own museum.”

  “But he’s in a wheelchair,” George noted.

  “Right,” I said, “so if it is him, he’s not working alone.”

  “Anyone else?” Jenna asked.

  “There’s also Connor,” I said.

  “Connor?” Jenna said, surprised. “I knew he was mad at me, but I didn’t think he would do something like this.”

  “Well, he confessed to vandalizing the sign. He denied knowing anything about the figurehead, but sometimes a suspect confesses to a smaller crime to throw suspicion off themselves for the bigger one.”

  Jenna shook her head. “I can’t believe I ever liked him.”

  “Do you think he would be capable of taking the figurehead as well as vandalizing the sign?” I asked.

  Jenna thought hard. “I wish I could say no, but he has a vindictive side.”

  “Marni told us that at the regatta this summer he knocked over the trophy table when he came in second,” Bess mentioned.

  “It was worse than that,” Jenna muttered. “After he knocked over the table, he picked up the first-place trophy and stomped on it right in front of Marni. He told her it was worthless and she didn’t deserve it because she cheated. But Marni didn’t cheat; she was just better than he was.”

  “Did he know how important the figurehead was to the exhibit and to you?” I asked.

  “Definitely,” Jenna replied. “I had just discovered it when I called it off with him to spend more time restoring it. I think he blames the figurehead for our breakup.”

  “All of these seem like strong suspects,” George agreed. “But how do we figure out which one actually stole it?”

  I was quiet for a moment, considering my answer. The truth was I wasn’t sure. Something felt off. Usually when I’m working on a case, the solution suddenly snaps into focus, but this one still seemed blurry. Even though Kelsey and Connor were strong suspects, I didn’t think either of them had stolen the figurehead. All of Connor’s other actions had been spontaneous, motivated by a clear moment of anger. To steal the figurehead would have taken consideration and planning. That didn’t seem like Connor. My interactions with Kelsey made me think that she wanted to make it on her own, not take someone else down to get ahead. She might be bitter and jealous, but I didn’t think she would feel satisfied if Jenna failed because of sabotage. Jeremiah seemed like such a loner, it was hard to imagine him working with a partner.

  Before I could explain any of this to my friends, Kelsey walked in. She sat down, ignoring Bess, George, and me, and turned to Jenna. “Break’s over. It’s your turn to usher.”

  We followed Jenna out of the staff room and into the main museum area. She picked up a stack of maps and stood near the entrance. All of a sudden, I felt my phone buzz in my purse. I checked the caller ID. It was Ned!

  “Hello?” I answered, stepping outside so I wouldn’t bother the museum patrons. “I thought you didn’t have cell service in the woods,” I said, confused. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. It was raining cats and dogs the whole time, so we decided to pack it in. How about you? I thought you’d be swimming in the ocean right about now. I was just going to leave you a message to let you know I was home.”

  “I haven’t really had a chance to go swimming yet,” I said.

  My boyfriend seemed to immediately know why. “Nancy, did you find yourself a case?”

  I filled him on what was going on and ran down the list of suspects.

  “This might sound weird, but do you think Jenna could have taken the figurehead herself?” he asked.

  “Why would she do that?” I replied.

  “Having your own exhibit is a lot of pressure, especially with a job riding on it,” Ned pointed out. “Maybe she couldn’t take it and couldn’t think of any other way to cancel the exhibit. We’ve seen it before.”

  That was true. I had solved cases where the culprit turned out to be the same person who’d hired me. “I’ll look into it,” I said. “Thanks for listening to
me.”

  “Anytime.”

  We said our good-byes, and I headed back inside the museum. I was still lost in thought when two ­middle-aged women walked by me. They wore matching skirt suits—one in red, the other in yellow—and they both clasped purses that were actually baskets made out of woven wood with ivory on top. One look at their faces told me they had to be sisters.

  “This is so like Pete,” one said to the other.

  “Tell me about it. Only he would fake a theft to sell tickets to his opening-night reception.”

  I quickly caught up to the sisters. “Excuse me,” I said. “I couldn’t help but overhear what you said. What do you mean Pete would fake a theft?”

  The women exchanged a look and then leaned in close. “You’ve heard these rumors about the theft, I assume?” the one in red murmured.

  I nodded.

  “Well, that’s all it is, dear, a rumor. A new, ingenious way for Pete to sell more tickets!”

  “He’s done this before?” I asked.

  “Well, not this exact ruse, but similar schemes,” said the one in yellow.

  “Like what?” I asked.

  The ladies led me over to a bench. I knew this was going to be a long story, but I was all ears. “Pete’s father started the Nantucket Ghost Tour,” the one in red said.

  “You’ve probably seen it around,” the other chimed in. “They take you on a walk around town to a bunch of different houses and hotels and tell you how they’re haunted—all a bunch of hooey. Until he left for college, Pete’s job every summer was to sell tickets.”

  “He’d sit at one end of Main Street in a top hat,” the red sister interjected, “wearing a sign over him. He had to fill the tours. His family depended on him to sell out the tours in order to have enough food on the table. That boy learned how to say and do anything to sell a ticket.”

  “He’d spin these yarns about how his mother had passed away when he was born and that’s when he began to see ghosts,” the sister in yellow said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Pete’s mother is alive and healthy as a horse today!”

  My jaw dropped. If Pete was capable of that, what else might he be capable of? Hiding the figurehead and telling the press it was stolen to create more buzz around the exhibit didn’t seem too far-fetched. If that was his plan, it had certainly worked! It would also explain why he was so confident that the figurehead would return in time.