by Kathi Daley
“The apartment you lived in before moving from New York to Cutter’s Cove last summer was vandalized.”
My heart sank. “Ethan?” I asked, mentioning the man I had lived with before leaving New York, who still lived in the apartment.
“He is fine. He wasn’t home when the break-in occurred. Nothing was taken, but the same message you received in text form a few weeks ago was spray-painted on the wall.”
“So whoever is doing this definitely thinks I am still in New York.”
“It would appear so.”
“Do you have any leads?”
“Not really. I pulled Vito Bonatello in for questioning.”
Vito was Clay Bonatello’s son, and the man we most suspected of being behind the messages, even though he had an alibi and was in custody when the first text had been sent. “And?”
“And he assured me once again that he has bigger fish to fry and has nothing to do with either the text or the break-in. While he has the best motive of anyone I can think of, he really is busy trying to carve out his place in the family hierarchy. To be honest, I am beginning to doubt he has anything to do with any of this.”
“If not him, who?”
Donovan sighed. “I don’t know, but I plan to keep looking. We are investigating the break-in. Your former apartment is in a secure building. The person who spray-painted the walls would have had to get past the doorman, enter the elevator key code, and then break into the apartment, which was both alarmed and locked without anyone seeing them. Seems pretty unlikely.”
“But obviously not impossible.”
“No. Not impossible. But some low-level thug in the Bonatello family couldn’t have pulled it off. We are looking for someone with a lot of skill.”
“Someone in the family could have hired someone with skill to get into the apartment,” I pointed out.
“True. Look, I don’t know what is going on yet, but I don’t want you to worry about it. I want you to be careful and to maintain the protocol we’ve set up regarding social media and phone and text communication, but I don’t want you to panic.”
“I’m not panicked,” I said. “And I understand that I don’t want to do anything that might give whoever is behind this a lead as to where I am, so I won’t communicate with anyone other than those on the approved list using my burner cell.”
“So tell me about this hijacking,” Donovan said.
I explained the series of events as I knew them to be true at this point. In a way, I was surprised my mother hadn’t called, but my phone had only been offline for one day, so I guess it wasn’t surprising that she hadn’t even realized I was missing.
Trevor walked in just as I hung up with Donovan. “Lunch is ready,” he informed me.
“Thanks. I’ll be right down. How is everyone’s mood now that they’ve had a chance to process things a bit?”
“I think most of the Hamilton Investments people are pretty nervous about the upcoming interviews. I guess I would be as well. The federal agent who came on board closed down the bar because he wants everyone sober for the questioning, which is making things even tenser.”
“And Evan?”
Trevor shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything. I guess if our trick with Mac’s phone did what we wanted it to, they will be able to track down the ship before Evan can disappear.”
“I hope so. He hurt a lot of people. I don’t think anyone realizes the extent of the damage that was done yet.”
“I have a feeling that the aftereffects of his actions are going to continue to be revealed for quite some time. Not only the money he stole but the trust he betrayed, the people in his life who may never learn to trust again.”
“Lucy made a comment about Harris and Evan being close. She said that when Harris found out what Evan had done, he must have felt so betrayed. It almost seemed as if she felt that Harris would take the betrayal harder than the missing money.”
“I suppose that might be true. Of course, Lucy was betrayed as well. I wonder if she knew in that last second that it was Lance who had killed her.”
I frowned. “I guess I didn’t stop to think about that. She said Lance was her best friend. She obviously didn’t remember that he killed her because even as a ghost, she was worried about him. I wonder how they knew each other.”
“Shelley told me that Lance moved into the apartment next to hers a few years ago. Even though he was a little older, they really hit it off and became good friends. Apparently, Lucy brought Lance as her date to other company functions when she wasn’t in a relationship.”
“So this Russian mobster has been living a totally average life all this time as Lance Simpson. I wonder what made him betray Lucy and return to being Lazar Durov.”
“I don’t know. We may never know.” I grabbed a lightweight sweater and pulled it on. It was warm in the room but chilly in the passageways. “I guess this didn’t turn out to be the relaxing week we hoped for.”
Trevor took my hand in his. “Relaxing no, but I don’t suppose it has been the worst four days of my life. In fact, I was having a really good time until we realized that Lucy was dead. Maybe we can do another cruise sometime.”
“Or maybe not.” I smiled. “But my mom is all set up to babysit the animals and you have coverage at the restaurant until Tuesday of next week, so maybe we could so something together after we get back home. There is a really nice B and B down the coast that I’ve been wanting to check out. It’s right on the water and I sort of doubt it will get hijacked.”
Trevor raised a brow. “If you are interested in trying to resuscitate this vacation, I have another idea.”
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“This cruise began in Seattle, and I assume that is where they plan to return us. We never did get to tour the San Juan Islands. How about we rent a car and take the ferry? There are some really nice rentals right on the water. I understand that for enough money, you can even rent a house that comes with a private island. Once we find a place to stay, we can take the ferry or rent a boat and tour the entire area.”
“That does sound nice.” I nodded. “I’m game.”
“I guess we should check with Ty and Mac. We did all come on this adventure together.”
I tightened my hand around Trevor’s as we neared the dining deck. “While I do think we should invite Mac and Ty to come along because we are on this trip together, I’d like to go regardless. Even if it turns out to just be the two of us.”
Trevor squeezed my hand. “Now you have me hoping they don’t come along.”
Trevor’s comments mirrored my feelings exactly.
UP NEXT FROM KATHI DALEY BOOKS
https://amzn.to/2to8yWA
Preview:
The rain pounded the already saturated landscape for the third morning in a row. The old adage about March coming in like a lion and going out like a lamb filtered through my mind as I sloshed across the muddy yard toward the mansion my contractor, Lonnie Parker. had been busily renovating for the past four months. The three-story structure was a grand old dame with a rich and colorful history. While much too large for a single woman and her ornery cat, the house would be perfect for the country inn my roommate, Georgia Carter, and I hoped to open this summer.
I groaned as a gust of wind whipped off my floppy hat and sent it flying out toward the angry sea. If not for the impending arrival of Bobby Martin, the man Lonnie had hired to refurbish the old mantel above the fireplace in the living room of the main house, I likely would not have ventured from my cozy cottage, where I’d been snuggled up in a chair in front of the fire with my furry friend Rufus, a huge Maine Coon who had somehow managed to wiggle his way into my heart and my life.
Having lived all my life on the much more temperate Central California coast, I was still learning to get used to the varied moods of a coastal Maine winter. One minute it was sunny and warm, the next it was snowing and blistery, and just when I’d been getting used to that, the heavens had opened and sent torrents of rel
entless rain that had me wondering if perhaps we should abandon the remodel and build an ark.
Not that I wasn’t loving my life in Holiday Bay. The town was charming, the scenery breathtaking, and the people filled the hole left in my life by the family I had lost along the way. In my wildest dreams, I never imagined I would be happy living in a small town with lampposts wrapped like candy canes, but from the moment I saw the email describing the house and the town in my inbox, I knew that Holiday Bay was exactly where I was meant to be.
“Oh good, I hoped you’d stop by,” Lonnie greeted after I blew in through the kitchen door. “I wanted to introduce you to Bobby.”
“Meeting Bobby is why I’m here,” I confirmed.
Lonnie took my wet raincoat and hung it on a peg near the back door. He then took me by the arm and led me through the kitchen, into the dining area, and toward the living room.
“Bobby Martin, this is the owner of the house, Abby Sullivan.”
“Happy to meet you,” greeted the short man with dark hair and huge green eyes. “You’ve got yourself quite the work of art here.”
I glanced at the intricately carved mantel. “I knew it was something special from the moment I first saw it, which is why I asked Lonnie to find someone special to refurbish it. The design is so elaborate. I’m not sure who carved the piece, but I’m pretty sure the mantel is as old as the house.”
Bobby shook his head. “Oh no. It’s much older than the house. Lonnie said the house was built in 1895.”
“Yes, that’s right,” I answered. “An Englishman named Chamberlain Westminster built if for his one true love, but she died just four months after they were married. It was a tragedy really.”
“Based on the architecture, 1895 seems accurate for the house, but this mantel is probably a hundred and fifty years older than that.”
I frowned. “Really? How do you know?”
Bobby bent down and pointed to a spot on the bottom of the mantel. “See this here, in the design? The little squiggly lines, if looked at closely, appear to be the letter S and G.”
I studied the spot Bobby pointed to. “Yes, I see what you mean. The letters don’t really stand out among the rest of the design, but now that you have pointed them out, I can see them clearly. Do they mean something?”
“It means the mantel was carved by Samuel Garrison. Samuel was an artist who carved items such as this in the Boston area between 1741 and 1782.”
I furrowed my brow. “So, if this Samuel Garrison carved the mantel where was it before it was built into the fireplace in this house?”
Bobby shrugged. “I don’t know. I suppose that it might have been part of another structure that was torn down right around the time that Westminster built this house. It is apparent to me that a lot of attention to detail was taken when Westminster designed the home. It makes sense that he might have purchased the mantel from the previous owner, or even an art dealer. It really is quite unique.”
I glanced at Lonnie. “Is there a way to find out where the mantel came from originally?”
“We can certainly do some research. You know how I love to dig into the history of the grand old homes I bring back to life. I have some books, and there is always the internet. I’m sure Lacy will help out as well.”
“Georgia is really good with research,” I said. “I’ll fill her in when we are done here. Is Lacy going to come by today to work on the mantel in the library?” Lonnie’s wife, Lacy, was refurbishing the much-simpler mantel upstairs, which I didn’t feel required an expert craftsman.
“Not today,” Lonnie responded. “The twins are going to be in a play at the preschool and she volunteered to help out with the rehearsal.”
“Aw. I bet they will be adorable. You do have the cutest daughters. What is the play about?”
“It is a spring production about rebirth. Of course, the actors are all three to five years in age, so it is really just a few songs and arm movements. I’m sure it will be cute, however. You should plan to come. Georgia too. I’ll have Lacy call you with the details. Or you can ask her tomorrow. I think she plans to come by in the morning to work in the library while the older kids are in school.”
“I’d love to come to the play.” I glanced at Bobby. “It was nice meeting you. I look forward to seeing what you can do to restore the mantel to its original brilliance. If you have any questions or run into any obstacles, please let me know. And if you find that the old piece is hiding any other secrets, let me know that as well.”
After Bobby returned to his work, I decided to take a quick peek at the rooms on the second floor, which were just about finished. The inn would have six suites, each with a view of the sea from the king-size bed. Each suite would also feature an attached sitting area with a gas fireplace, a jetted tub, and a giant steam shower. And each unit would have a private deck with its own gas fireplace, as well as a comfortable seating area.
The suites were similar yet unique. I could have decorated all the rooms the same way, but after thinking about it, I decided that each room should have its own color pallet. The rooms on the second floor of the house were done in shades of gray and green. The suite on the right, known as the Evergreen Suite, featured medium gray cabinets and dark green granite for the shower and countertops in the bathroom. The granite had gray running through it, which tied everything together nicely. The suite on the left, known as the Shamrock Suite, featured sage-green granite and dark gray cabinets. The walls were painted a shade slightly lighter than the granite, which I felt had a calming effect. The flooring for both suites was the shiny, dark hardwood that ran throughout the house.
The room I was most proud of on the second floor was the library, which was located between the two suites. The walls were painted white, and the bookshelves, as well as the mantel Lacy was working on, would be a honey pine, which contrasted nicely with the darker hardwood floors. Georgia had found a giant area rug for the center of the room, and we had plans to go shopping for the perfect furniture for the space. I could imagine perfectly our guests cozying up in front of the fire with their favorite books on blustery winter nights.
Taking one last look around the room, I let the vastness of the empty space engulf me. Given the massive number of bookshelves, I supposed I needed to get busy buying books. I had some in storage with the rest of my possessions in San Francisco, which would get me started once I shipped everything to Maine.
Once my tour was complete, I headed back out into the rain. The idea of having a mantel in my home that was once in the home of someone living around the time of the American Revolutionary War had certainly gained my interest. I tried to imagine a family from that time period sitting at the communal table sharing a meal in front of a stone fireplace that supported the same mantel that was currently in my home.
“You’ll never guess what I found out about the fireplace mantel in the living room of the mansion,” I said to Georgia, who was brushing mud from the thick black hair of her Newfoundland, Ramos.
“What did you find out?” she asked, as she got up from the floor and began sweeping up the mess her furry friend had made.
I took off my wet jacket and hung it on a peg near the front door. “Bobby, the man Lonnie hired to refurbish the mantel, said it looks to have originally been carved by a man named Samuel Garrison, who lived in the Boston area during the eighteenth century.”
Georgia raised a brow. “Really? That is amazing. Is there a way to find out where the mantel was between the time Garrison carved it and the time it was built into your house?”
“Bobby didn’t know for sure, but he thought we might be able to research it. I guess this Samuel Garrison was pretty famous back in his day. There might be photos of some of the items he created. I don’t know if a mantel would make it into a book, but it would be fun to look.”
“I agree. I’m in.” Georgia dumped her dustpan of dried mud into the trash can. She glanced at Ramos. “There are times such as now when it enters my mind to shave that dog. Not th
at I would, but I can’t believe how much of the outdoors he has managed to bring indoors since the rain started. The snow was wet, but at least it was clean. All this mud is a nightmare.”
“We’ll need to talk to Lonnie about a lawn, and maybe a patio area and walkways. It won’t do a lot of good for those times when Ramos needs to go for a longer walk, but at least we would be able to move around the property without being covered with black, gooey grim.”
“Landscaping would be nice. For now, I think the next time I take Ramos out, I’ll take him on a leash, or maybe I’ll load him into my truck and take him to the park. He won’t get quite so muddy if he isn’t allowed to roam freely around the property.” Georgia replaced the trash can in the cabinet under the sink. “I know that it seems like spring is never going to arrive, but I’ve been studying the blueprints the landscape architect left for you to look over. The plans are amazing, but there is a lot of hardscape, which it seems to me we should get started on sooner rather than later so that once the threat of a freeze has passed, we can get started on the planting that will need to be done.”
I opened the refrigerator and took out an apple. “I agree.” I took a bite and then glanced out the window. “The plans call for a patio off the back of the house. I wasn’t sure I wanted quite that much concrete at first, but Lonnie pointed out that by the time we added flower boxes with bright annuals, tables with colorful umbrellas, and a water feature, it would actually be a lovely spot from which we can serve meals in the warmer months. If we add a firepit, or maybe even an outdoor fireplace, we should be able to serve meals out there well into fall.”
“I think outdoor dining will be a plus,” Georgia said. She grabbed a book off the shelf and opened it to a photo of a lovely garden with winding pathways, large trees and shrubs, and colorful flower beds. “What do you think about something like this for the area surrounding the patio? I know we talked about a gazebo overlooking the sea, and we’ll want a lawn where we can set up chairs for weddings and other events, but I’ve been envisioning something lush with a lot of shade for the walking paths. Of course, we won’t want to obstruct the view of the sea from the first-floor rooms, but I think we can take that into account when deciding where to place everything.”
