Chapter Eleven #2
Before Trey could answer, Callie spoke up.
“Detective Autry, I would appreciate it if you would call me Callie. And although Trey did just admit he wanted me gone, he couldn’t have set up the cat noises that first night with me in mind, because first of all, he had no idea I was going to arrive when I did.
And secondly, even if he’d decided to do it on the fly after I got here, he doesn’t seem to have the technological knowledge to set up something like that—no offense, Trey.
And even if he did, I’m a very light sleeper.
And if I didn’t hear him, Stella would have. ”
“Who’s Stella?” Autry demanded, looking from Callie to Trey and back. “Why haven’t I heard about her? She should be out here too so I can question her.”
“The cat, Alex.” Trey’s exasperation was palpable. “The one that had the note wrapped around her collar?”
Glancing at the cat, the detective had the good grace to look abashed. “Oh, right.”
To Callie he said seriously, “Not that I don’t take you at your word, Miss—uh, Callie, but are you positive you didn’t drop off at all that first night before all the commotion began?”
“Absolutely,” Callie said firmly. “And in case you’re wondering, Stella also has a hard time sleeping in a new place.
And she keeps me up because of it by hissing at any movement outside our door.
I saw Trey lock the door leading to the stacks on my way to my room last night, and I know he didn’t unlock them again because they make enough noise to wake the dead.
If I didn’t hear them, Stella would have. ”
Autry nodded. “I guess that does make it unlikely he was able to set that speaker up after you got here.” To Trey he said, “Sorry, man, but I had to ask. Especially since neither of you can think of anyone who has anything to be gained by Callie getting scared off the island besides you.”
Blowing out a breath, Trey nodded to the other man. “I know I’m the most logical suspect, but I promise you it’s not me. Even if I didn’t think it’s chicken-shit to hide behind a dead loved one, I damn sure wouldn’t destroy a bunch of valuable midcentury modern furniture just to make my case.”
At the mention of the furniture, Autry laughed. “OK, now I get why you were so upset last night—aside from the mention of Khaki’s use of your real name, I mean.”
To Callie he said, “I hope you aren’t ever in a position to be stuck with this guy after a couple of beers when he goes on his rant about the decline in the quality of the furniture manufactured these days.
” He made a finger gun and pointed it at his head.
“That was forty-five minutes of my life I’ll never get back. ”
Callie bit back a smile as she saw Trey roll his eyes at the other man’s words.
“I can’t help it if you still have bookshelves made out of milk crates and a couple of two-by-fours,” he said to his friend with a shrug.
“I’ll have you know I replaced those last year,” the detective said stiffly.
“You mean Shelly replaced those,” Trey shot back. Turning to Callie he added, “The new bookshelves outlasted the girlfriend.”
But Autry didn’t seem to mind the ribbing. “It didn’t work out with Shelly. But she did have excellent taste in furniture.”
Turning the conversation back to the subject at hand, Callie asked, “Do you have everything you need, Detective?”
At the reminder this wasn’t a social call, Autry winced. “Sorry, ma’am. I’ll just get the speakers from you and then I’ll get out of your hair.”
“I only have the one from last night,” Trey said with a frown. “I gave the other one to Charlie to see if he could figure out whose phone it was connected to.”
“Charlie Duchamp?” Autry asked with raised brows. “He’s just a kid. Why would you give it to him instead of handing it over to the police?”
“Because ACAB, Detective Autry,” came a voice from the door leading into the room.
Callie looked up and saw a handsome young man who was clearly related to Bobby and Tricia Duchamp, given how much he looked like a perfect blend of both. He had his father’s height and build, and his mother’s dimples and smiling brown eyes.
“Don’t make me arrest you for being a smartass, kid,” the detective said, but it was clear he was joking.
“Sorry, Detective,” Charlie said with a shrug, “but you were kind of asking for it.”
Callie was shocked by the banter but supposed since the island was so small, these two had known each other for a good long while.
“Miss Callie Jameson, this knucklehead is Charlie Duchamp in case you haven’t already figured that out.” Trey then turned to Charlie and said, “Charlie, this is Callie. And you already know Detective Autry and Stella.”
Hearing her name, Stella stood up on Callie’s lap and stretched, then meowed up at the teenager.
“Hey, little kitty,” he said, giving her a small stroke on the head.
Then, taking the backpack off his shoulders, he removed a Bluetooth speaker. Handing it to Autry, he reached into the backpack again and pulled out some folded sheets of paper.
To Trey he said, “Sorry it took so long. I had some trouble figuring out how to nail down the connection history. Usually, you generate a list of devices connected to a specific phone. This is the first time I’ve ever tried to generate a list of devices a specific speaker has been connected to.”
Autry handed the speaker to Trey and held out his hand to Charlie for the sheaf of papers. The boy handed the pages to the man without protest and they all watched as the detective pored over them.
After a couple of minutes though, he said, “I don’t understand. You’re gonna have to spell it out for me.”
When Trey reached for the pages, he handed them over. But Trey looked just as puzzled as Autry had been.
“Let me see,” Callie said, and when Trey handed the pages to her, she saw the issue immediately. “It’s the MAC addresses.”
One of her duties at the library in Cincinnati was helping patrons navigate all kinds of technology, which included their own home Wi-Fi and the various devices that connected to it—helping them find the MAC addresses of their laptops, cell phones, and even Bluetooth speakers.
Charlie gave her a broad smile. “Exactly,” he said with an approving nod. “There’s no way to tell whose device it is without looking at every phone or computer on the island.”
Callie thought about it. “Could it also have been someone on a boat close enough to hop on the speaker’s Bluetooth?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie said, looking at once impressed and disheartened. “They could be on the other side of the world by now, unfortunately.”
“I don’t necessarily think whoever is trying to scare me away is an international criminal.” Callie shrugged. “Though you make a good point.”
The teenager shrugged. “I guess it’s unlikely they’re wanted by Interpol or something. But they could be in Houston or Mobile by now.”
“Do y’all wanna clue the rest of us in on what the hell you’re talking about?” Trey was looking at the two of them like they were indeed exchanging notes in the back of the classroom.
“Gotta agree with the class clown, here, kids,” Autry said with a frown. “What the hell is a MAC address?”
Callie waved for Charlie to explain it to them.
“Every electronic device with the capability to be hooked up to the internet has a unique identifier that is embedded in its firmware,” Charlie explained. “You’ve probably seen them when you look at your router information or at the label on the bottom of your laptop.”
“OK, so it’s unique,” Autry said frowning. “So that means if we find the device that matches the MAC address you circled on this page, then we’ll find whatever was playing the Halloween cat music and throwing the cat’s cries into the cage, correct?”
“Correct,” Callie said with a nod. “Unfortunately, unless we figure out a way to look at every electronic device on the island, I’m not sure we’ll be able to figure out who the culprit is from that angle.”
“Unfortunately,” Charlie repeated with a sigh, “that’s also correct. Though I have an idea I’d like to try out. If you can give me more time to work on it.”
“Seems like we got nothing but time, kid,” Trey said with a swipe of his hand down his face. Then, as if remembering his godson had been doing a favor for him, he clapped Charlie on the shoulder. “That was good work. I knew you were the right person for the job.”
The teen’s cheeks reddened and Callie appreciated seeing the banter between the two.
It was clear they had affection for each other, and she was reminded that despite his hopes that she’d be scared away by the supposed hauntings, he had at least made an attempt to figure out who was to blame by asking Charlie to investigate.
That had to stand for something. And the easy affection between Trey and his godson told her that he wasn’t as much of a curmudgeon as he’d wanted her to believe.
“Welp,” Autry said, pulling out a business card from his jacket pocket and handing it to Callie, “give me a call if you think of anything else, Callie.” Tipping his chin in Trey’s direction, he continued.
“That goes for you too. And I shouldn’t have to say it but I will anyway.
If there are any more incidents, ghostly or otherwise, let me know. ”
Callie took the card and shifted Stella to her shoulder, then stood. “Thank you, Charlie. And you too, Detective Autry.”
“Call me Alex,” the detective said, shaking Callie’s hand. She was surprised by the warmth in the smile he sent her way. When he wasn’t scowling, this man was incredibly handsome, she realized. Too bad she felt not the least bit of the same electricity with him as she had with Trey.