Read Online A Finder's Fee by Jim Lavene, Joyce - Free Book Online

card belonged to a publicist from an advertising firm located in Elizabeth City on the North Carolina mainland. It was innocuous enough in and of itself. It was the money behind it that left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Dillon Guthrie had hired the firm for me.
    Dillon was a big-time smuggler. His base of operations was national, but he had a soft spot in his heart for the Outer Banks. He and I had met last year over the sale of a rare antique pistol. He’d offered me money then for my campaign, but I’d turned him down. It was blood money, as far as I was concerned.
    I’d had a few emails from him since then, but they were mostly questions about items he’d purchased and wanted my opinion on. He swore he respected my integrity and had begun treating me like his private antique broker. I hadn’t actually done any deals with him, just given advice about antiquities.
    Why had he decided to put money into my campaign, especially at this late date? It made me feel like he was a magician with something up his sleeve.
    I thanked Chris and Nancy for their help, not sure if I’d already done so. I stuck the business card in my pocket and headed down to Missing Pieces.
    The Currituck Sound was like a piece of blue glass, gulls dipping and wheeling over it. A few boats were out, their colorful sails trying to catch any early morning breeze. Two women were launching kayaks from the sandbar near the boardwalk. Ducks paddled around in the cold water at the base of the piers that supported the structure.
    All of the shops were open. There were even some early shoppers enjoying the day and, hopefully, looking for something from Missing Pieces they couldn’t live without. I had a chance to make up for the time the shop had been closed.
    August Grandin from the Duck General Store nodded curtly as he walked by me. He was never much of a talker. I waved to Trudy through the window of the Curves and Curls Beauty Spa as she worked on Annabelle Smith’s hair. They both waved back to me.
    Then I was home.
Home!
    It was always my first feeling when I opened the door to Missing Pieces and stepped inside. Maybe it was because I loved everything here. It would’ve all been at my house if it wasn’t for Gramps suggesting I open a shop and sell some of it. I was very comfortable here. I might have lived here, if it were possible. The owner of the Duck Shoppes had a strict “no living on the premises” policy.
    I opened the blind on the door and let Treasure roam through the shop. My burgundy brocade sofa beckoned, and I didn’t even try to resist. I sat there in splendor and enjoyed my breakfast.
    The sofa was a little old and a bit too big for the shop—Shayla frequently pointed this out to me. I didn’t care. It was perfect. I worked around it as needed. It was pleasant having it there, sharing stories with friends and visitors when they came to visit. Sometimes I even spent the night on it. There wasn’t a more comfortable sofa in the world.
    That morning, even my sofa didn’t bring me peace. I realized I was going to have to find five thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise to sell and a ready buyer for it. Not allowing Kevin to pay for what he’d done for me seemed even more important than figuring out who my campaign benefactor was.
    I knew there were several items worth that much. Some were worth much more. I took out a pair of silver bells that I had acquired and thought about them. The bells were made by monks in St. Augustine hundreds of years ago. There were actually three of them, but I hadn’t been able to locate the third bell in the last year.
    I knew I had a ready buyer who had the cash for one of the bells. Dillon had wanted to purchase the bell I’d found. I had refused to sell to him. Oddly enough, he already had the second bell and had given it to me—with the stipulation that I would let him buy the bells from me when I found the third one.
    It wasn’t a comfortable arrangement. I probably should have said