Catherine's Cross, page 2
“Why are you asking me about her diving alone? She was with Frank when she died.”
“I’m just gathering information.” He looked at her for a moment and then said, “I’d like to take you to your sister’s now.”
“Thank you . . . I’d appreciate it.”
Detective Mason led Jenks out of the sheriff’s department building to a silver-colored police car that was parked at the rear of the building. He opened the car door for her, and she sat down in the front seat of the vehicle. When he started the engine, Willie Nelson’s voice crooned on the stereo, “You are always on my mind . . .” He quickly turned the sound system off.
Jenks didn’t want to hear music and was thankful that he stopped it. She thought how terribly unfair this was. Gigi had her whole life ahead of her. She thought of all the wonderful times they had shared growing up. Gigi was not only her sister, she was her best friend. Her mind raced to thoughts of their last skiing trip to the mountains of North Carolina and how much fun they had had together. This was just three months ago.
A feeling of numbness descended upon her. They had just spoken a few days before. The conversation had been about a trip Jenks would take to Beaufort during the summer to visit Gigi. As she rode in the detective’s car, Jenks could still hear Gigi’s voice in her mind. The last words she had said before the conversation ended: “I love you, Jenks.”
The policeman drove Jenks to her sister’s Port Royal home. Cars filled every parking spot in front of Gigi’s house. Many of her friends and neighbors had assembled at her cottage. Gigi’s next-door neighbors, the Bernsteins and the Forrests, were on the front porch, and they offered their condolences.
As Jenks and Detective Mason entered Gigi’s home, a young woman came forward and took Jenks by the hands. Tears were on her cheeks and she said hesitatingly, “I taught school with Gigi. When I saw you enter the room, I thought you were her.”
After Jenks thanked Gigi’s friend for coming, she glanced into the corner of the living room. Standing in a darkened corner was Gigi’s diving partner, Frank Hiller. Blond-headed and handsome, his towering, six-foot, three-inch frame rippled with muscles. The former Navy diver stood with his arms crossed in front of his powerful chest, and he looked at Jenks as she walked in his direction.
“Frank, thank you for coming,” Jenks told him.
As soon as she spoke, his arms relaxed and he hugged her. “I’m sorry about Gigi,” he said. “I wish I had known she was in trouble.”
“Frank . . . How could this have happened? She told me once that she wore a safety line to you.”
“We used the line at first because she was uncomfortable diving in the dark waters of the rivers. On one occasion our safety line became ensnarled in underwater tree branches, and we had difficulty clearing ourselves of it. We discontinued using the line after that.”
As the mourners departed, Frank Hiller was one of the last to leave. Jenks knew that Gigi was crazy about him. They had met two years before at the Beaufort Water Festival. He had helped her gain her open-water certification so that she could dive with him in the rivers. A number of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century taverns had been located along the waterways of Beaufort County, and they had had success recovering artifacts and ancient spirit bottles from the sites. They sold their discoveries to antique dealers as far away as Boston, and Gigi had assembled her own collection of antique bottles that she proudly displayed on the shelves beside her fireplace.
As he made his departure, Frank hugged Jenks and her mother and asked if he could do anything to help them. “I’m very sorry about what happened,” he said as he went out the door.
Jenks looked in Detective Mason’s direction. Earlier that evening, she had noticed the two men talking together. Standing side by side, Frank was slightly taller than the detective, but it was obvious that both men took great care of their physiques. After he had spoken with Frank, Detective Mason had taken a position in one corner and quietly observed the people in the room.
Jenks now noticed the detective give Frank a hard look as he left the home. His light chestnut brown eyes seemed to darken as the former Navy diver passed by.
The next afternoon, Detective Mason came to see Jenks and her mother at Gigi’s home.
“I checked with the local marina operators to see about Gigi’s leasing of a boat for diving. The owner of the Morgan River Marina, Joe Mitchell, said that he had leased a motorboat to her for several months. He’s been out of town for two weeks and was not aware of Gigi’s death. He offered his condolences.”
“Thank you, Detective,” Linda said.
“Joe said that she had used the boat frequently during the spring. The watercraft was set up for operating a GPS, but he said Gigi had her own equipment. It has been removed.” The detective gazed inquisitively at Jenks and her mother when he said this.
“I know so little of technology. What is a GPS?” Linda inquired.
“It’s a device to measure your position on the earth’s surface. It uses satellite signals to triangulate latitude and longitude locations.”
Jenks was quiet for a moment before saying, “It would be a method of recording her diving sites.”
“Yes, ma’am, she could have done that.”
Before the detective departed, he told them that he’d be in touch when the Medical University of South Carolina issued the autopsy report on Gigi’s death.
Two days later, Detective Mason came to see Jenks and her mother with the preliminary results from the autopsy. “The cause of death was drowning due to asphyxiation. X-rays proved there were no broken bones and no evidence of barotrauma.”
“Barotrauma?”
“Yes, your sister was diving with scuba equipment. A breath of compressed air taken at depth can over expand in the lungs if a diver does not breathe out while ascending. The diver’s lungs do not sense pain when the air over expands, but an injury can result. In the depth of water that they were diving, that should not have been a factor. Also, she was wearing gloves, and the check for material under her fingernails did not reveal anything.”
Jenks remembered that Gigi had cut her hand on a broken bottle during one of the dives and had started wearing gloves to prevent injury.
“It could take up to two weeks to get the toxicology results, but I have asked the lab to expedite the process.”
“I don’t understand how this could have occurred.”
“Perhaps the toxicology report will reveal new information,” Detective Mason said.
Gigi had adored the Port Royal community. She told Jenks once that she had heard that the Port Royal of the past was known for three things: bars, fighting, and shrimping. But with the prospect of the port terminal being developed, new businesses had been established. Unfortunately, the port project had failed and during the economic downturn, shops had closed, and some homes were in foreclosure.
Jenks knew that Gigi was proud of her cottage. She had renovated it doing much of the work herself. Gigi had landscaped and decorated her home to be one of the loveliest in the neighborhood.
There were a number of military personnel living in Port Royal since the Marine training base at Parris Island was a short distance away. On the street where she lived, Marine flags flew from the front of a few homes.
Neighbors continued to come by for brief visits to Jenks and her mother. The Bernsteins, who lived next door, brought over casseroles, and they promised to keep a close eye on Gigi’s house. The neighbor to the other side of her home, Crawford Forrest, came by twice. Gigi had told Jenks that she had become friends with the Bernsteins, but while the Forrests were cordial, they usually stayed to themselves.
Jenks and her mother returned to Raleigh to make preparations for Gigi’s funeral. Several days after they returned home, Detective Mason phoned Jenks.
“Miss Ellington, I hope you are well. I wanted to let you know that I have the results from the toxicology tests. The lab was very helpful and got the findings back to me as quickly as they could.”
She took a deep breath. “Yes, Detective.”
“There was no alcohol or chemicals in her system.”
“I would have been surprised if there had been,” Jenks replied. “And Gigi was a very capable swimmer. So there’s no way to know what happened?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for just a moment, and then the detective said, “Miss Ellington, there’s something bothering me. Frank Hiller is a former Navy diver, and navy divers work with partners or as a team. I know accidents do happen, but with all of Frank’s training, I don’t understand how he would allow his partner to get into trouble.”
“Why would he allow harm to come to her?”
“At this point I don’t know.”
When they finished their conversation, Jenks hung up the receiver and sat down on the couch. There is no explanation for Gigi’s drowning . . . Perhaps Frank Hiller has some answers.
On a Sunday afternoon, under clear blue skies, Gigi was laid to rest beside her father in a family plot that had been in the Ellington family for several generations. She was just twenty-six years of age. During the service, hot, stinging tears flowed from Jenks’s eyes. She felt suffocated, as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs.
Wiping tears away, Jenks locked her eyes on Frank Hiller when she saw him in the crowd of mourners. Standing about ten feet away from him was Detective Mason. When her eyes met with the detective’s, he nodded to her. As soon as the service was over, Frank approached Jenks and her mother. He told them again how sorry he was about Gigi.
“Frank, will you take a walk with me?” Jenks asked.
“Yes, I’ll be glad to.”
They left the group of people and walked about twenty-five feet away to the shade of an oak tree. Jenks felt cold chills envelop her as she began the conversation. “Frank—the autopsy results and the toxicology report have come back on Gigi.”
“Yes, Jenks?”
“There is no physical reason for her having drowned . . . no broken bones, no chemicals or alcohol in her system. She was a very capable swimmer.”
“Jenks, what are you implying?”
“I want to know what happened to her.”
“I don’t like where this conversation is headed.” Frank’s face darkened with wrinkles and he stepped in her direction, towering over her. “I didn’t do anything to harm your sister, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He placed his hands on her shoulders.
She immediately recoiled, taking a step backward.
“Jenks—I’ll overlook this. I know that you’re very upset right now.”
“Everything all right here?” Detective Mason said as he stepped toward them.
“Yes, I was just finishing my conversation with Jenks.” Frank gave Jenks a quick nod and then turned away. The detective stood by her and they watched Frank leave the cemetery and walk to his car.
“What was that about?” the detective asked.
“I told him I wanted to know what happened to Gigi.”
“And what did he say?”
“That he didn’t do anything to harm her.”
“And you expected him to say otherwise?” He raised his eyebrows and looked at her.
She wiped away a tear. “So what do we do now?”
“I need strong proof of foul play to go before a judge for an arrest warrant. We’re going to look for new evidence.”
She looked at the metal casket holding her twin sister. A new wave of tears came into her eyes and poured down her cheeks. Choking back the tears, she said, “After the school year is over, I’ll be coming to Beaufort to pack her things and put her house on the market.”
“You’ve got my phone numbers. I would like to help you in any way that I can.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Besides Jenks, he was the last person to leave.
Several nights after the funeral, Jenks began to experience dreams about her sister. The most disturbing thing about the dreams was the acute realism. Gigi’s mahogany-colored hair was loose around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were bright and alive. In each nightmare, Gigi appeared to Jenks wearing a gold cross around her neck. A voice repeated the word twins. Jenks would wake in a profuse sweat, unable to get the image out of her mind.
On the third night of enduring the nightmare about her sister, Jenks was awakened by a ringing sound. At first she could not place the sound as she emerged from the darkness of the dream, but as it continued, she realized it was the ringing of her telephone. The time on her alarm clock was four a.m.
Lifting the receiver, she heard an edgy voice on the other end of the line say in a whisper, “Miss Ellington, this is David Bernstein down in Beaufort. I apologize for calling at this hour, but someone has broken into your sister’s home. I woke to go to the bathroom, and I saw a flashlight beam inside her house. I have called the police, but I wanted you to know. The police should be here any minute.”
Jenks rose from bed and made coffee. There would be no more sleep, but that also meant there would be no more nocturnal visits from her sister that night.
At five a.m. the phone rang again, and David Bernstein was once again on the line. “Miss Ellington, the police are at your sister’s, but the place is too much of a shambles to tell if anything is missing. Whoever was in her house turned the place upside down.”
“Mr. Bernstein, thank you for calling me. Could you please make sure the policeman on duty calls me? I’ll be leaving for work around seven.”
“I will, Miss Ellington.”
At six forty-five the phone rang, but this time it was Detective Mason. “Miss Ellington, I’m troubled about your sister’s home being broken into. There have been incidents of property invasions in Port Royal, and I hate the thought that someone might have been aware of her passing and knew the house was empty.”
“That’s a horrible thought.”
“What bothers me is that there are no signs of forced entry. Mr. Bernstein and his wife are going to look over her place this morning to see if they can determine if any of her belongings are missing. Most of her possessions are on the floor. It’s as if someone was searching for a particular item.”
“What about her antique bottles on the shelves beside the fireplace?”
“As far as I can tell, the collection has not been disturbed.”
“Thank you, Detective Mason. Were you the officer on duty?”
“No ma’am, the officer who received the initial call phoned me at home. He was aware that your sister had recently passed away and that I was in charge of her . . .”
He paused for a moment and Jenks interjected, “Detective Mason, I’ll be home around four o’clock, and would it be all right if I call you then? I have your business card.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said before saying good-bye.
The news of the break-in had distracted her with intense worry. As Jenks led the class in social studies, she fumbled her words repeatedly, and her hands shook as she wrote on the chalkboard. At recess, one of her students approached her. “Are you all right, Miss Ellington?” Joey Adams asked. “I noticed your hands shaking.”
“Thank you, Joey. I have a lot on my mind today.” She patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Go enjoy recess, and I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He smiled back and then left the classroom.
For the rest of the day, the children were especially quiet except when called upon to answer questions; she concluded that Joey must have mentioned his concerns about her to the other students. Jenks knew that she had not done a good job for them since the death of her sister, but she had difficulty concentrating, and hoped the students would forgive her. There were only a few weeks left before summer vacation, and she wanted to focus on her work well enough to give the students the attention they deserved. Then the painful task of packing her sister’s possessions and selling her house would begin.
After school that afternoon, Jenks met with her principal, Dr. Edwin Bishop, and told him about the break-in at her sister’s house.
“Jenks, I’m going to allow you personal time and sick leave to go handle what you need to in Beaufort. You’ve done a fine job with your students and testing is complete for the year.” Dr. Bishop was admired by his teaching staff for his fairness and professionalism, and Jenks accepted his proposal and decided to leave after saying good-bye to her students the next day. She placed a phone call to Detective Mason to inform him of her intentions to come to Beaufort and then went home to her apartment to pack.
When Jenks arrived at her sister’s home, yellow police tape was wrapped around the front porch of the cottage and Detective Mason was waiting for her on the porch, sitting in a high-back wicker rocker. He rose from his seat, walked to her car, and opened the door for her. After they exchanged greetings, he led her to the house, lifted the yellow tape so they could cross under, and then opened the front door. The living room of Gigi’s house had been turned into chaos. Her bookshelves had been stripped and books lay helter-skelter on the floor. Every drawer had been emptied.
“This is maddening. I can’t tell if anything is missing or not,” Jenks said.
“The Bernsteins noted that one thing is missing—your sister’s computer.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“Information.”
“What on earth about?”
“We’ll have to try to figure that out.”
“Were you able to find any fingerprints?”
“The area around your sister’s computer table was wiped clean. The fingerprints we did find were run through the FBI’s national fingerprint identification system, IAFIS. We found Frank Hiller’s fingerprints along with David Bernstein’s. The database includes active-duty and former military personnel, plus federal government employees. David worked for the Internal Revenue Service, and Frank is a former member of the US Navy. Your sister knew both of these people, so it’s normal that their fingerprints would be found in her home.”
“The area around her computer desk was completely wiped clean?”
“Yes—whoever took the computer was smart enough to wipe the surfaces down. There were some other fingerprints, but they are not on record with the FBI.”
“I’m just gathering information.” He looked at her for a moment and then said, “I’d like to take you to your sister’s now.”
“Thank you . . . I’d appreciate it.”
Detective Mason led Jenks out of the sheriff’s department building to a silver-colored police car that was parked at the rear of the building. He opened the car door for her, and she sat down in the front seat of the vehicle. When he started the engine, Willie Nelson’s voice crooned on the stereo, “You are always on my mind . . .” He quickly turned the sound system off.
Jenks didn’t want to hear music and was thankful that he stopped it. She thought how terribly unfair this was. Gigi had her whole life ahead of her. She thought of all the wonderful times they had shared growing up. Gigi was not only her sister, she was her best friend. Her mind raced to thoughts of their last skiing trip to the mountains of North Carolina and how much fun they had had together. This was just three months ago.
A feeling of numbness descended upon her. They had just spoken a few days before. The conversation had been about a trip Jenks would take to Beaufort during the summer to visit Gigi. As she rode in the detective’s car, Jenks could still hear Gigi’s voice in her mind. The last words she had said before the conversation ended: “I love you, Jenks.”
The policeman drove Jenks to her sister’s Port Royal home. Cars filled every parking spot in front of Gigi’s house. Many of her friends and neighbors had assembled at her cottage. Gigi’s next-door neighbors, the Bernsteins and the Forrests, were on the front porch, and they offered their condolences.
As Jenks and Detective Mason entered Gigi’s home, a young woman came forward and took Jenks by the hands. Tears were on her cheeks and she said hesitatingly, “I taught school with Gigi. When I saw you enter the room, I thought you were her.”
After Jenks thanked Gigi’s friend for coming, she glanced into the corner of the living room. Standing in a darkened corner was Gigi’s diving partner, Frank Hiller. Blond-headed and handsome, his towering, six-foot, three-inch frame rippled with muscles. The former Navy diver stood with his arms crossed in front of his powerful chest, and he looked at Jenks as she walked in his direction.
“Frank, thank you for coming,” Jenks told him.
As soon as she spoke, his arms relaxed and he hugged her. “I’m sorry about Gigi,” he said. “I wish I had known she was in trouble.”
“Frank . . . How could this have happened? She told me once that she wore a safety line to you.”
“We used the line at first because she was uncomfortable diving in the dark waters of the rivers. On one occasion our safety line became ensnarled in underwater tree branches, and we had difficulty clearing ourselves of it. We discontinued using the line after that.”
As the mourners departed, Frank Hiller was one of the last to leave. Jenks knew that Gigi was crazy about him. They had met two years before at the Beaufort Water Festival. He had helped her gain her open-water certification so that she could dive with him in the rivers. A number of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century taverns had been located along the waterways of Beaufort County, and they had had success recovering artifacts and ancient spirit bottles from the sites. They sold their discoveries to antique dealers as far away as Boston, and Gigi had assembled her own collection of antique bottles that she proudly displayed on the shelves beside her fireplace.
As he made his departure, Frank hugged Jenks and her mother and asked if he could do anything to help them. “I’m very sorry about what happened,” he said as he went out the door.
Jenks looked in Detective Mason’s direction. Earlier that evening, she had noticed the two men talking together. Standing side by side, Frank was slightly taller than the detective, but it was obvious that both men took great care of their physiques. After he had spoken with Frank, Detective Mason had taken a position in one corner and quietly observed the people in the room.
Jenks now noticed the detective give Frank a hard look as he left the home. His light chestnut brown eyes seemed to darken as the former Navy diver passed by.
The next afternoon, Detective Mason came to see Jenks and her mother at Gigi’s home.
“I checked with the local marina operators to see about Gigi’s leasing of a boat for diving. The owner of the Morgan River Marina, Joe Mitchell, said that he had leased a motorboat to her for several months. He’s been out of town for two weeks and was not aware of Gigi’s death. He offered his condolences.”
“Thank you, Detective,” Linda said.
“Joe said that she had used the boat frequently during the spring. The watercraft was set up for operating a GPS, but he said Gigi had her own equipment. It has been removed.” The detective gazed inquisitively at Jenks and her mother when he said this.
“I know so little of technology. What is a GPS?” Linda inquired.
“It’s a device to measure your position on the earth’s surface. It uses satellite signals to triangulate latitude and longitude locations.”
Jenks was quiet for a moment before saying, “It would be a method of recording her diving sites.”
“Yes, ma’am, she could have done that.”
Before the detective departed, he told them that he’d be in touch when the Medical University of South Carolina issued the autopsy report on Gigi’s death.
Two days later, Detective Mason came to see Jenks and her mother with the preliminary results from the autopsy. “The cause of death was drowning due to asphyxiation. X-rays proved there were no broken bones and no evidence of barotrauma.”
“Barotrauma?”
“Yes, your sister was diving with scuba equipment. A breath of compressed air taken at depth can over expand in the lungs if a diver does not breathe out while ascending. The diver’s lungs do not sense pain when the air over expands, but an injury can result. In the depth of water that they were diving, that should not have been a factor. Also, she was wearing gloves, and the check for material under her fingernails did not reveal anything.”
Jenks remembered that Gigi had cut her hand on a broken bottle during one of the dives and had started wearing gloves to prevent injury.
“It could take up to two weeks to get the toxicology results, but I have asked the lab to expedite the process.”
“I don’t understand how this could have occurred.”
“Perhaps the toxicology report will reveal new information,” Detective Mason said.
Gigi had adored the Port Royal community. She told Jenks once that she had heard that the Port Royal of the past was known for three things: bars, fighting, and shrimping. But with the prospect of the port terminal being developed, new businesses had been established. Unfortunately, the port project had failed and during the economic downturn, shops had closed, and some homes were in foreclosure.
Jenks knew that Gigi was proud of her cottage. She had renovated it doing much of the work herself. Gigi had landscaped and decorated her home to be one of the loveliest in the neighborhood.
There were a number of military personnel living in Port Royal since the Marine training base at Parris Island was a short distance away. On the street where she lived, Marine flags flew from the front of a few homes.
Neighbors continued to come by for brief visits to Jenks and her mother. The Bernsteins, who lived next door, brought over casseroles, and they promised to keep a close eye on Gigi’s house. The neighbor to the other side of her home, Crawford Forrest, came by twice. Gigi had told Jenks that she had become friends with the Bernsteins, but while the Forrests were cordial, they usually stayed to themselves.
Jenks and her mother returned to Raleigh to make preparations for Gigi’s funeral. Several days after they returned home, Detective Mason phoned Jenks.
“Miss Ellington, I hope you are well. I wanted to let you know that I have the results from the toxicology tests. The lab was very helpful and got the findings back to me as quickly as they could.”
She took a deep breath. “Yes, Detective.”
“There was no alcohol or chemicals in her system.”
“I would have been surprised if there had been,” Jenks replied. “And Gigi was a very capable swimmer. So there’s no way to know what happened?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for just a moment, and then the detective said, “Miss Ellington, there’s something bothering me. Frank Hiller is a former Navy diver, and navy divers work with partners or as a team. I know accidents do happen, but with all of Frank’s training, I don’t understand how he would allow his partner to get into trouble.”
“Why would he allow harm to come to her?”
“At this point I don’t know.”
When they finished their conversation, Jenks hung up the receiver and sat down on the couch. There is no explanation for Gigi’s drowning . . . Perhaps Frank Hiller has some answers.
On a Sunday afternoon, under clear blue skies, Gigi was laid to rest beside her father in a family plot that had been in the Ellington family for several generations. She was just twenty-six years of age. During the service, hot, stinging tears flowed from Jenks’s eyes. She felt suffocated, as if the wind had been knocked from her lungs.
Wiping tears away, Jenks locked her eyes on Frank Hiller when she saw him in the crowd of mourners. Standing about ten feet away from him was Detective Mason. When her eyes met with the detective’s, he nodded to her. As soon as the service was over, Frank approached Jenks and her mother. He told them again how sorry he was about Gigi.
“Frank, will you take a walk with me?” Jenks asked.
“Yes, I’ll be glad to.”
They left the group of people and walked about twenty-five feet away to the shade of an oak tree. Jenks felt cold chills envelop her as she began the conversation. “Frank—the autopsy results and the toxicology report have come back on Gigi.”
“Yes, Jenks?”
“There is no physical reason for her having drowned . . . no broken bones, no chemicals or alcohol in her system. She was a very capable swimmer.”
“Jenks, what are you implying?”
“I want to know what happened to her.”
“I don’t like where this conversation is headed.” Frank’s face darkened with wrinkles and he stepped in her direction, towering over her. “I didn’t do anything to harm your sister, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He placed his hands on her shoulders.
She immediately recoiled, taking a step backward.
“Jenks—I’ll overlook this. I know that you’re very upset right now.”
“Everything all right here?” Detective Mason said as he stepped toward them.
“Yes, I was just finishing my conversation with Jenks.” Frank gave Jenks a quick nod and then turned away. The detective stood by her and they watched Frank leave the cemetery and walk to his car.
“What was that about?” the detective asked.
“I told him I wanted to know what happened to Gigi.”
“And what did he say?”
“That he didn’t do anything to harm her.”
“And you expected him to say otherwise?” He raised his eyebrows and looked at her.
She wiped away a tear. “So what do we do now?”
“I need strong proof of foul play to go before a judge for an arrest warrant. We’re going to look for new evidence.”
She looked at the metal casket holding her twin sister. A new wave of tears came into her eyes and poured down her cheeks. Choking back the tears, she said, “After the school year is over, I’ll be coming to Beaufort to pack her things and put her house on the market.”
“You’ve got my phone numbers. I would like to help you in any way that I can.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Besides Jenks, he was the last person to leave.
Several nights after the funeral, Jenks began to experience dreams about her sister. The most disturbing thing about the dreams was the acute realism. Gigi’s mahogany-colored hair was loose around her shoulders, and her hazel eyes were bright and alive. In each nightmare, Gigi appeared to Jenks wearing a gold cross around her neck. A voice repeated the word twins. Jenks would wake in a profuse sweat, unable to get the image out of her mind.
On the third night of enduring the nightmare about her sister, Jenks was awakened by a ringing sound. At first she could not place the sound as she emerged from the darkness of the dream, but as it continued, she realized it was the ringing of her telephone. The time on her alarm clock was four a.m.
Lifting the receiver, she heard an edgy voice on the other end of the line say in a whisper, “Miss Ellington, this is David Bernstein down in Beaufort. I apologize for calling at this hour, but someone has broken into your sister’s home. I woke to go to the bathroom, and I saw a flashlight beam inside her house. I have called the police, but I wanted you to know. The police should be here any minute.”
Jenks rose from bed and made coffee. There would be no more sleep, but that also meant there would be no more nocturnal visits from her sister that night.
At five a.m. the phone rang again, and David Bernstein was once again on the line. “Miss Ellington, the police are at your sister’s, but the place is too much of a shambles to tell if anything is missing. Whoever was in her house turned the place upside down.”
“Mr. Bernstein, thank you for calling me. Could you please make sure the policeman on duty calls me? I’ll be leaving for work around seven.”
“I will, Miss Ellington.”
At six forty-five the phone rang, but this time it was Detective Mason. “Miss Ellington, I’m troubled about your sister’s home being broken into. There have been incidents of property invasions in Port Royal, and I hate the thought that someone might have been aware of her passing and knew the house was empty.”
“That’s a horrible thought.”
“What bothers me is that there are no signs of forced entry. Mr. Bernstein and his wife are going to look over her place this morning to see if they can determine if any of her belongings are missing. Most of her possessions are on the floor. It’s as if someone was searching for a particular item.”
“What about her antique bottles on the shelves beside the fireplace?”
“As far as I can tell, the collection has not been disturbed.”
“Thank you, Detective Mason. Were you the officer on duty?”
“No ma’am, the officer who received the initial call phoned me at home. He was aware that your sister had recently passed away and that I was in charge of her . . .”
He paused for a moment and Jenks interjected, “Detective Mason, I’ll be home around four o’clock, and would it be all right if I call you then? I have your business card.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said before saying good-bye.
The news of the break-in had distracted her with intense worry. As Jenks led the class in social studies, she fumbled her words repeatedly, and her hands shook as she wrote on the chalkboard. At recess, one of her students approached her. “Are you all right, Miss Ellington?” Joey Adams asked. “I noticed your hands shaking.”
“Thank you, Joey. I have a lot on my mind today.” She patted him on the shoulder and smiled. “Go enjoy recess, and I’ll see you in a few minutes.” He smiled back and then left the classroom.
For the rest of the day, the children were especially quiet except when called upon to answer questions; she concluded that Joey must have mentioned his concerns about her to the other students. Jenks knew that she had not done a good job for them since the death of her sister, but she had difficulty concentrating, and hoped the students would forgive her. There were only a few weeks left before summer vacation, and she wanted to focus on her work well enough to give the students the attention they deserved. Then the painful task of packing her sister’s possessions and selling her house would begin.
After school that afternoon, Jenks met with her principal, Dr. Edwin Bishop, and told him about the break-in at her sister’s house.
“Jenks, I’m going to allow you personal time and sick leave to go handle what you need to in Beaufort. You’ve done a fine job with your students and testing is complete for the year.” Dr. Bishop was admired by his teaching staff for his fairness and professionalism, and Jenks accepted his proposal and decided to leave after saying good-bye to her students the next day. She placed a phone call to Detective Mason to inform him of her intentions to come to Beaufort and then went home to her apartment to pack.
When Jenks arrived at her sister’s home, yellow police tape was wrapped around the front porch of the cottage and Detective Mason was waiting for her on the porch, sitting in a high-back wicker rocker. He rose from his seat, walked to her car, and opened the door for her. After they exchanged greetings, he led her to the house, lifted the yellow tape so they could cross under, and then opened the front door. The living room of Gigi’s house had been turned into chaos. Her bookshelves had been stripped and books lay helter-skelter on the floor. Every drawer had been emptied.
“This is maddening. I can’t tell if anything is missing or not,” Jenks said.
“The Bernsteins noted that one thing is missing—your sister’s computer.”
“Why would anyone want that?”
“Information.”
“What on earth about?”
“We’ll have to try to figure that out.”
“Were you able to find any fingerprints?”
“The area around your sister’s computer table was wiped clean. The fingerprints we did find were run through the FBI’s national fingerprint identification system, IAFIS. We found Frank Hiller’s fingerprints along with David Bernstein’s. The database includes active-duty and former military personnel, plus federal government employees. David worked for the Internal Revenue Service, and Frank is a former member of the US Navy. Your sister knew both of these people, so it’s normal that their fingerprints would be found in her home.”
“The area around her computer desk was completely wiped clean?”
“Yes—whoever took the computer was smart enough to wipe the surfaces down. There were some other fingerprints, but they are not on record with the FBI.”
