“Okay.”
I was easily impressed with the products as I made my way down the first row of vendors. There were artists of all kinds. Pottery, wood-turned bowls, paintings, quilts and more. Two of the vendors recognized the woman from the picture, letting me know that I was at least in the right place, but they hadn’t seen her in several weeks.
The chime of wooden pellets beating against metal caught my attention. It took me a minute to find the source, but once I did, I couldn’t help but smile at the creativity of it. It wasn’t wood at all, but empty walnut shells that were tied to fishing line, hanging in a cage of thinly cut and twisted metal, each one slightly wider than the one next to it. Each sliver of metal offered a different note as the shells bumped it in the breeze, creating a truly unique and beautiful sound. Adorning the “cage” were tiny butterflies and music notes also made of metal.
“He calls itRhythm Uncaged,” a voice said from behind me.
I turned to see a young woman in her mid- to late-twenties, with shoulder-length brown hair, and bright green eyes that seemed to sparkle in the sun.
“It’s incredible,” I said.
“Yeah. That’s the Captain for ya. He’s always creating unique and amazing things out of thin air. Seriously, the man is a master.”
“The Captain?” I asked.
“Oh, the artist. Everyone around here calls him the Captain.” She handed me his business card. “He has an online gallery with over 300 pictures of his work if you’re interested. He’s always open to custom orders, too.”
I shoved the card in my pocket. “Thanks.”
She went back to finish unpacking some of the items for display while I continued to look around. There were shelves made of upcycled beer bottles as well as a few clocks formed out of fired metal or glass, each using different objects to make the numbers. Some had rocks, while others had shells or other random items. A dozen or more animals filled one table, each uniquely designed with twigs, netting, and tiny, bent fishhooks. A large turtle with a beautiful patchwork design on the shell and glass beads for eyes caught my attention, and I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to touch it.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” I murmured, mostly to myself.
The woman beamed. “Yeah, Preston has a very unique style. We’re pretty lucky to have him here. His work is displayed all over the world. It’s his small touches that make our town feel a little more special, you know?”
“Wait, it’s his art I’ve been seeing around town? Like the cranes down by the harbor?” I asked.
“Yeah, those are Preston’s,” she said with pride. “Tell me, Mr. uh….”
“Oh, Beckett. My name is Beckett,” I said, holding out my hand.
“Nice to meet you. I’m Sarah. What is it you collect, Beckett? Because I’m sure Preston has something for you.”
“Ships,” I said without thinking. “Any of them. Sailboats, motorboats, even the large cargo ones. I love them all.”
She seemed to have been given a winning lottery ticket, jumping on her toes and heading to a box in the corner. She held the item carefully with both hands as she pulled it out, unwrapping it slowly. My jaw dropped. It was the most beautiful ship I’d ever laid eyes on. About two feet long and eighteen or so inches high, it was composed of fired aluminum and brushed brass with thin gold rope that was threaded through holes along the rails. Pieces of rubber were cut and molded to form buoys that hung from the side, and there were tiny flowers imprinted into the metal near the back of the ship, where the name Lady Jasmine was burned into it, in a beautiful delicate script.
I had no idea how the artist managed to use so many mediums and make them work so fluidly, but every element seemed like it belonged.
“This is amazing,” I whispered, tracing my finger along the colorations in the metal. “How much?”
The woman glanced at me but didn’t hesitate with the price, clearly proud of her friend’s work. “$225.”
I barely batted an eye as I reached for my wallet, carefully holding the ship in one arm. I couldn’t explain it, but Ihadto have it.
While she was swiping my card, I pulled out the picture of the girl we were looking for. “Do you happen to know this woman by chance?”
She looked at the picture and froze. “You’re looking for Amelia?”
“Yes, do you know her?”
“She’s a friend. Is she in trouble?” she asked, swallowing hard.
“No, I just want to ask her a few questions. I’m an investigator trying to recover some property. Can you help us find her?”
Her hands were unsteady as she handed me the receipt. “Um, yeah. She’s been staying at my house,” she admitted. “I can have her come here, if you need me to.”
“Yes, please, that would be great.” I gave her a reassuring smile to alleviate any anxiety I may have caused.
