Reservations for Murder - Tim Myers [40]
With that, he ducked inside and pressed the ordinary- looking black button that controlled the Fresnel lens. In a moment, the light came on and began to slowly rotate, shining out into the night around them.
Alex could hear the mass of cheers from below. Normally, he loved the ceremony, an event that occurred once a year when he could light the beacon with the local government’s blessing.
It just wasn’t the same this year, whether because of the recent murder, the Golden Days Fair, or, he had to admit to himself, the fact that Elise was gone.
“It’s awfully bright up here,” Shantara said. “How long are you going to keep the lens on?”
“I always give it thirty minutes, rain or shine. Let’s go back down and enjoy the festivities. I think we both need a break.”
Alex and Shantara split up as they walked among the blankets filled with families of all sizes and shapes. There were greetings from old friends and new ones as kids of all ages watched the light rotate into the night, mesmerized. It really was quite a sight; Alex had to admit it. He never got tired of seeing Hatteras West in all its glory, its beacon shining brightly; he only wished the town council would ease up on their restrictions and let him fire up the Fresnel lens more often.
But for now, for that moment at that place and time, all was well with Alex’s world as the beacon completed another turn into the darkness.
Once the light was shut off for another year and the crowds were all gone, Alex followed Shantara back to the demonstration area. Temporary floodlights lit the area showing a lawn picked clean of debris. The two exhibits still standing were the only signs that the Golden Days Fair had ever been there.
As she started to work at packing up the display, Shantara said, “You really don’t have to help, Alex, I can take care of this myself.”
“I know I don’t have to,” Alex said as he grabbed a stack of newspapers and started wrapping pottery pieces. “To be honest with you, I’m so keyed up from lighting the lens that I won’t get to sleep for hours, anyway.”
“Okay, then, I give up.”
As they worked, he said, “So what happened to all the kids? I can’t believe they left without you.”
“I told them they could go. I called Irma, and she’s started the pizzas.” She wiped her forehead. “Besides, I just want to go home, take a good long soak and forget about the world for a while.”
They worked well together, storing and stacking the pottery and equipment left behind.
Alex looked over at the murder victim’s exhibit and said, “What’s going to happen to Jefferson’s exhibit?”
“Bill Yadkin’s agreed to take it down for me as soon as he gets his own display back to his shop.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s getting late, though. Alex, do you mind if it stays up until tomorrow?”
“It’s fine with me,” Alex said, though the last thing in the world he wanted was a reminder of the slain blacksmith.
Shantara said, “Bill’s thinking about making a bid on the equipment from whoever ends up with Jefferson’s estate.”
“I can’t believe he’d want it, not after the feud the two of them had.”
Shantara shrugged as she secured the lid to the final box. “He says good equipment is hard to come by, and he doesn’t want the tools to just go on display somewhere. The anvil alone is supposed to be some kind of real prize for collectors, but Bill wants to keep it to use.”
“So what are you going to do with all of this?” Alex asked, gesturing to the pile of filled boxes.
“I’m keeping everything at the store until Craig can pick it all up. Have you heard anything about Marilynn?”
“The last I heard, she was still unconscious.” Alex didn’t add his own suspicions of Craig Monroe’s reaction. Shantara had enough troubles on her mind.
Shantara nodded. “I don’t care how late it is, I’m changing my plans and going by the hospital as soon as we’re done.” She surveyed their work and said, “Thanks for helping, Alex. You