Sugar and Vice

by Eve Calder

  “I know I’ve been a bit of a mess lately,” the shop owner said, more to Kate than to Ben. “But I have to admit, her attitude—and the speed with which she left—well, my ego took a pummeling. But I’ve had time for reflection. I’m not blameless in this, either, let me assure you. And I want my wife back. I want my marriage back. And I’m hoping that if I just give her a little time and a little space, she’ll come back. On her own. But it has to be her idea. If you do this, if you force the issue, that’s it for us. She’ll end it.”

  “We need to find out who this guy is, Harp.” Ben’s gravel voice sounded tired. Kate could see the fatigue and long hours in the shadows under his eyes. “Whoever he is, we owe him that. And when I talk with Caroline, I’ll leave your name out of it. This is on me.”

  Harp shook his head sadly. “It won’t matter. She’ll believe that I engineered this. As an attempt to clip her wings. And the more you insist that I had nothing to do with it, the more she’ll believe that I did.”

  “Well, we’re at an impasse then,” Ben said quietly. “Because I have to do my job.”

  Harper Duval sighed. “When my wife left for rehab, she took a few suitcases with her. The rest of her things are still at the house. And will remain there until she makes up her mind about us. What if you came by and collected whatever you need to make a DNA comparison? I give you my blanket permission as the homeowner to take whatever you require. That way, you wouldn’t have to contact her unless you’re positive it’s him. And I can guarantee you, whoever that body is, it’s not Joel Drummond.”

  Ben sighed. “Eventually, to confirm his identity officially, we’ll need a swab taken directly from Caroline.”

  “Understandable. And if it does turn out to be Joel, you contact Caroline, break the news, and do what you need to do. But, seeing as how her brother’s been gone for at least a decade, I can assure you that won’t be necessary. This way, you get to rule out Joel—and I get the chance to save my marriage.”

  Ben shook his head. Kate could tell he was wrestling with his conscience. “We’d need something of hers that has DNA on it—like a hairbrush or even a hat. And if it comes back a match, Harp, my hands are tied. I’ll have to ask her to come back to Coral Cay to make a formal identification. And get an official confirmation from our lab.”

  “Of course,” Harp said, obviously relieved. “And thank you. I’m truly grateful. My lady has at least a dozen hairbrushes. Along with an extensive collection of millinery. Come by anytime, and please take whatever you like.”

  Chapter 59

  As Kate curled up in bed that night in her room on the second story of the Cookie House, Oliver snoozed at her feet.

  Treasure hunters or not, she felt safe and secure. Between the police, private security, cameras, and her vicious golden doodle guard dog, there was nothing to fear. Oliver rolled over in his sleep, exposing his pink belly. His legs jerked. Wherever he was, he was running. Still chasing the purple disc? Then he smiled and sighed.

  Kate patted his shaggy flank. His hair was silky and clean. She’d given him a thorough brushing when they’d returned from the beach, and the pup had loved it.

  She returned to her book. Caroline’s book. She marveled at Harp’s one-eighty. He’d gone from bon vivant almost-bachelor to worried husband in the course of a few short days.

  But breakups did play havoc with the emotions. She knew that was true. And sometimes a little time to think could give you a whole new perspective. In her case, it had given her a whole new life in Coral Cay.

  She hadn’t seen or heard from Evan since he’d shown up yesterday with little George. Had he finally gotten the message? Or was he just off making mischief somewhere else?

  She resumed her reading. Finally she came to the scant phrases that inspired the legend—and the looters. “Mark me well. Find my heart, and you will spy my treasure. Riches beyond imagining.”

  Kate reread the passage three times. Just as she had with each of the books stacked up on her bedside table. Each retelling of the story was slightly different. Perhaps they had originated from different narrators—the recollections of various members of Sir George’s crew. Or, as the legend was told and retold over the years, the storytellers might have embroidered it with their own flourishes.

  Likewise, each book had a slightly different take on Sir George Bly’s last words. But the gist was the same. Find him, find the treasure.

  Suddenly, she remembered something. Rosie learned that Sir George had been born in 1559. Kate reached over and lifted the Bly family book from the table. She opened it to the front and looked for the family tree. She found poor George’s entry, with nothing but question marks for his birth and death dates. Then she slid her finger over to the entry for his older brother, Henry.

  Lord Henry Bly, Duke of Marleigh, b. 1559–d. 1661

  Were the two brothers less than a year apart in age? Or had they actually been twins?

  Chapter 60

  Kate rolled a rack of cookies out of the oven, as a blanket of heat enveloped the kitchen, along with the smell of cinnamon and orange zest.

  The sun was just up, and Oliver was gallivanting around the backyard. Kate planned to join him as soon as she loaded another rack into the big oven.

  The Pirate Festival started today. And Kate wanted to be prepared. She’d been baking half the night. Now it was time to get some coffee and stretch her legs. And definitely toss a Frisbee.

  Suddenly, the phone rang. Simultaneously, someone pounded on the front door of the shop.

  “Delivery!”

  “Just a sec!” she called, grabbing the phone from the wall. “The Cookie House, this is Kate.”

  “The guys with the tables and chairs for the pirate dinners are coming early,” Maxi said, breathlessly. “Super early. Their dispatcher just called, and they’re gonna be there any minute.”

  The man pounded on the door. “Hey, delivery here! You want these things or not?”

  “They’re here,” Kate hissed. “Hang on.”

  She opened the door to a crew of three, one carrying a clipboard, the other two lugging folding tables and stacks of chairs. A big red supply van was parked at the curb.

  “Just take them past here, through the kitchen, and out the back door,” Kate said, pointing the way, as she reverted to restaurant mode. “We’re setting up in the backyard.”

  She stepped back, and the two men hauled their cargo through the shop toward the kitchen. The first man stepped up and shoved the clipboard at her.

  “Just sign here,” he insisted.

  “After they’re set up, and we do a quick count,” Kate said. “When you’re done, I’ll get us all some coffee and fresh pastry. In the meantime, I’ll be in the kitchen if you guys need anything.”

  Picking up the phone she’d hurriedly dropped on the counter, Kate half-expected a dial tone. But instead, she heard her friend’s voice. “That’s very good, Mr. George. Eres un perrito tan inteligente! Yes, you are! A super good boy!”

  “What did the super good boy do?”

  “He used el baño in the yard this morning. And we are very proud of him. Extra treats for Mr. George.”

  “We’re good on the delivery,” Kate said. “The guys are here, and they’re setting up out back.”

  “Sorry, corizon, I scheduled all our deliveries for this afternoon. But apparently pirate fever has hit big-time. The dispatcher said they were swamped with orders, and it was now or never. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. But if anybody shows up with a mountain of tablecloths or a big giant tent, just open the door and say ‘gracias.’”

  “Aye aye, captain,” Kate said lightly. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve got the coffeepot going and some pastry coming out of the oven. Like Sunny says. ‘Just relax and breathe.’”

  Chapter 61

  By nine, the rest of the deliveries had arrived. And an hour later, the backyard of the Cookie House had been transformed.

  As Kate and Maxi put the small flower arrangements o
n the tables, Carl Ivers and two of his helpers finished stringing lanterns and winding fairy lights around the tent poles.

  “We only need the tent top if the weather gets bad,” Maxi explained. “Otherwise, you want to eat under the sky. Like the pirates. But the poles are up, just in case. For now, the guys are going to use them for the lights. Then, if we get a rainy evening, we just attach the cover, and we’re ready to go. In the meantime, I’ve got it stashed in my shop.”

  “That works,” Kate said. “So you said the first night’s a barbecue,” Kate said. “How does that work, exactly?”

  “Well, mi amor and a couple of the guys from the firehouse will be working the grills. And everybody brings something good for them to cook up. Veggies, corn on the cob, steaks or burgers or hot dogs. Whatever you like. Last year, somebody brought a pot of soft-shell crabs. Yum! Amos and Harp usually supply the condiments—ketchup and mustard and chutney and stuff. But Carl has this special mayonnaise he likes, so Minette brought a whole tub of it.”

  “Well, we’ve got rolls and desserts covered,” Kate said, grinning.

  “We’re all done here,” the hardware store owner declared. “Should be good to go tonight.”

  “How about some iced tea?” Kate asked.

  “Love to, but we’ve got to get back,” Carl said, taking off his white painter’s cap and mopping his brow. “Because of the festival prep, everybody in town is needing something. And Minette’s holding down the fort at the shop.”

  “Then how about a few cookies for the road?” Kate asked. “I’ve got some of the chocolate icebox ones she likes.”

  “You got yourself a deal,” he said. “And I’d like to buy a box each for these two.”

  “No charge,” Kate said. “Thanks to you three, this place is officially ready for the pirate festival. Come on into the bakery, you can pick out whatever you like.”

  * * *

  A short while later, as Kate shut the industrial oven and headed for the back door, Bridget O’Hanlon stuck her head into the kitchen.

  “I brought some stuff for the barbecue. Is it OK if I come through?”

  “Of course,” Kate said cheerfully. “We’re just taking a break and enjoying the atmosphere.”

  Bridget stepped into the backyard and looked around in wonder as she set a large market bag onto one of the tables. “This is perfect,” she said, in a hushed voice. “If you aren’t careful, you might get stuck with this permanently.”

  “I love it,” Maxi said dreamily. “I’m just glad someone else does too.”

  “Hang on, girls, I’ve got something you might want to try,” Kate said, disappearing into the kitchen. She returned a few minutes later with a tray. On it was a pitcher of iced tea, three glasses, and a platter heaped with chocolate-coated cookies.

  “Time to celebrate,” Kate announced, as she poured the tea.

  Maxi absentmindedly picked up one of the cookies. “These look like little pirate hats.”

  “Exactly,” Kate said.

  “Oh my gosh, they really do,” Bridget said. “How did you do that?”

  “Remember the display in Rosie and Andre’s window? The one with the pirate hat? It reminded me of an old recipe I used to love making. Tricorn jam cookies.”

  “Wait a minute, there’s jam in these?” Bridget asked.

  Kate nodded. “But I needed them to look like pirate hats. So I had to exaggerate the shape just a little. And since everyone thinks pirate hats are black, of course I had to dunk the whole thing in dark chocolate.”

  “Well, if you absolutely had to,” Maxi said, plucking one off the platter. “Oooohhhh, this is good!”

  Bridget took a bite and closed her eyes. “It’s orange and chocolate and cookie,” she said happily.

  “I got the idea from Gabe. Remember at the book club dinner? How much he loved Andy’s spiked orange pancakes with Andre’s melted chocolate sauce? But I made these with a sour-orange marmalade. That way, when I add the bittersweet chocolate, it’s not too sweet.”

  “Yeah, it’s got a nice tang,” Bridget said, reaching for another.

  “They go into the shop today. And you guys are the first ones to taste them.”

  “So how goes the search for Gentleman George?” Maxi asked. “I’ve been so busy with pirate nights, I haven’t had time to add anything to Barb’s board. Or even research anything to add to Barb’s board.”

  Bridget looked down at the ground.

  “What is it?” Kate asked. “Is something wrong?”

  “Promise not to tell?” Bridget asked, dropping her voice.

  “Por supuesto,” Maxi said, putting her hand on her heart. “To the grave.”

  Kate nodded in agreement. “Definitely. What’s up?”

  “Well, it started when Andy and I called one of the maritime museums in Boston. They’d put on a pirate exhibit a year or so ago. And we wanted to see if there was anything they might be willing to share. Not artifacts, but research. Or stories. Maybe some interesting little tidbits of information. Anything that might shed some light on Gentleman George or what life was like for pirates back then.”

  Bridget paused. “Barb is gonna hate this,” she said finally.

  Kate and Maxi looked at one another.

  “Barb wants to find the truth,” Kate said gently. “Whatever it is.”

  “She’s still gonna be really upset,” Bridget said. “One of the curators emailed us some stuff. A few research papers that mention some of the pirates of that era. But nothing about George. Then there was a page from a letter. Most of it you can’t even read. It’s four hundred years old. And it’s in pretty sorry shape. So you can only see a few words here and there. And those are in another language. Latin. It was written by a priest. Or he might have been a monk. I’m not really sure. Anyway, he was aboard one of the ships that Gentleman George and his men raided. And apparently, he survived and wrote all about it in a letter.”

  “What did he say?”

  She shook her head. “From the fragments that survived—and that’s not much, believe me, just a few phrases here and there—the guy is clearly not a fan. He calls George Bly ‘a sinister swordsman and sailor.’”

  “Sinister?” Kate asked, her eyes wide. “Are you sure?”

  “That was one of the few parts I could actually understand. The word is the same in English and Latin. So this priest didn’t just doubt that George was a gentleman. He thought our pirate founder was evil incarnate.”

  Chapter 62

  Kate glanced over her shoulder into the backyard. Maxi was right. As soon as the tables went up, people started arriving—bringing food, drinks, and gossip. Some were looking to help set up for tonight’s barbecue. Others just wanted to escape the crowds—and their shops—for a few minutes to regain their equilibrium.

  Kate was afraid Oliver might be upset at losing the yard. But instead, the pup acted as the unofficial greeter—spreading his own special brand of calm. She also noticed that, from time to time, he managed to encourage a few of the kids and teenagers to toss the purple Frisbee around on the front lawn.

  For her part, Kate was doing good just to keep up with the crowd that poured into the bakery. At first, she and Sam were taking turns. But after a while, it was all hands on deck. And the customers just kept coming. At this rate, Kate didn’t know if they’d even have time to make it to the barbecue. Even if it was just a few feet from the kitchen door.

  “Not usually like this,” Sam said brusquely, as they passed each other in the kitchen. “It’s all that Gentleman George nonsense.”

  “Yes, but on the plus side, we’re sold out of pirate bread, pirate hat cookies, and both flavors of doubloons. Andy and Bridget need more key lime tarts for the pub. And two of the resorts called asking for treasure chest cakes.”

  “You don’t say,” the baker replied, cracking a wry smile. “Might just have to go easy on the old salt then.”

  All afternoon, Kate noticed a certain reverse symmetry between the crowds in the store and
the shopkeepers congregating out back. As the bakery emptied out, the backyard would fill up. And vice versa.

  Until, by six or so that evening, the backyard of the Cookie House was teeming with familiar faces, while the shop itself was nearly empty. And the bakery cases had been picked clean.

  Through the open back door, Kate could smell the familiar mix of charcoal, starter fluid, and meat—the scent of summer—as steaks, burgers, and hot dogs sizzled on a half dozen different grills.

  Still, she was surprised to see Sam amble up to the front door, flip the OPEN sign to CLOSED, and turn the deadbolt.

  “Out of almost everything anyway,” he explained. “Might as well enjoy the party. Besides, it’s your first Pirate Festival.”

  And with that, he disappeared into the kitchen.

  As she crossed the backyard, Kate spied Sunny Eisenberg chatting with Mr. and Mrs. Kim.

  “So how’s your mom, Sunny?” Kate asked. “Will she be here for the festival?”

  “I think Mom will be finished bedeviling my brother about the same time the festival and the tourist season wrap up,” the yoga instructor cackled. “She’d rather face down a hurricane.”

  “Your mother is a very smart lady,” Leonard Kim said.

  “We’ve been slammed all day,” Kate said. “You guys, too?”

  Margaret Kim nodded. “They come in wanting pirate this, and pirate that. What they really buy? Sunblock, stomach medicine, aspirin, and earplugs.”

  “You could wrap them together in a pack and call it the pirate special,” Sunny cracked.

  “You laugh, but it’s true,” Leonard Kim said, shaking his head. “And the resorts would love it. One in every room.”

  “Why earplugs?” Kate asked.

  “Why, dear, haven’t you heard?” Sunny asked. “Tonight the festival kicks off with fireworks.”

  * * *

  “Could I ask you one super big favor?” Maxi asked, as the two of them were refilling pitchers of tea and lemonade in the kitchen.