Slaying at Sea (Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery Book 3)

by Stacey Alabaster

  I pressed down on his chest because I wasn’t sure what else to do, and that is what people always do in the movies, right? His eyes popped open. They were as dark as his hair and a little bit intense and scary—a little like a shark’s. “Where am I?” he groaned.

  “You’re in paradise,” I said with a grin. I sat back, feeling a little relieved. He blinked a few times and looked at me like I was crazy.

  He rolled over and coughed and spluttered. Water came up and he continued to cough while I got out of the way.

  Okay, maybe this wasn’t ALL glamor, but it was still exciting. And not just because I had been proven right. That was always exciting. But this was like something I had dreamed up and then it had come to life.

  But the poor guy was coughing so hard that his spluttering had turned to wheezing.

  “I’d better get you to a doctor,” I said, reaching for my cell phone.

  “No doctor,” he groaned, reaching for my arm. He had a hint of an accent, but I couldn’t place it. I noticed then that he had a large gash on his leg. There was a rip in his pants and blood was peeking through. It was deep, but I wasn’t sure if it definitely needed stitches. Matt had gotten gashes about the same size while out surfing, and our mum had always just taken him home and put iodine on the cuts while Matt yelped in pain.

  “Okay,” I said, nodding. I could take care of the wound back at my place.

  I stood to my feet and tried to pulled him up. Shoot. His legs were wobbling, and he struggled to stand. Maybe I needed an ambulance. At the very least, I needed some kind of help. I’m strong, strong enough to carry a surfboard with ease and strong enough to compete in triathlons and win, but I couldn’t lift a fully-grown man all on my own.

  Help arrived right when I needed it. Just not in the form I wanted it.

  It arrived in the form of Troy Emerald.

  “Oh no,” I said as I saw him approach, not knowing whether to be relieved or horrified. His salt and peppered hair was looking very coifed that day, as though he had been to the hair stylist. Of course he was wearing a grey suit and dress shirt even though he was walking across the sand, where most people wore board shorts and flipflops.

  Troy and I were in a bit of a weird place, personally speaking. I wasn’t sure where I stood with him. Let’s just say, we had left things in a ‘friendly’ spot since we had last spoken. The last time we had met on that very beach, we had almost kissed. Almost. I had realized, just in time, that he was a ruthless shark with absolutely no scruples who was trying to ruin the town I loved and grew up in. So I had pulled away.

  Troy was frowning at the man on the sand.

  “Who is this guy?” Was there a hint of jealousy in his voice? “Alyson?” He looked at me, demanding an explanation.

  I spoke quickly. I wanted to get the guy off the beach before anyone saw him and tried to swoop in and take my fantasy away from me.

  “He washed up today. We need to get him back to my apartment.”

  There was a look of bemusement on Troy’s face, which quickly turned to disbelief. “We need to get him to a hospital.” He was staring at the wound in the stranger’s leg.

  I shook my head firmly.

  I hated to beg Troy Emerald for help. But it seemed like begging was my only option right then. “He refuses to see a doctor. Please help me, Troy.”

  My apartment was a large studio, only ‘one room’ technically, but I had it divided into three so that J and I got our own ‘bedrooms’ and there was at least a little bit of privacy. J was my eight-year-old niece who stayed with me half of the time since her mom, my sister was ill. The other half of the time she spent with Matt. J needed her own ‘room,’ even if it was only divided by a room divider. There was no bedroom for my shipwrecked victim, but the couch would do just fine. With a bit of effort, Troy and I managed to get his body up the stairs and onto the sofa. Troy had done most of the work and I thanked him profusely once we were finally through the door. I just hoped no one had seen us. I would have looked quite a sight, smuggling a half-conscious stranger through my door.

  “I guess my work here is done.” Troy didn’t quite look like he was ready to leave yet, though. He was hesitating.

  “Thank you,” I said, pushing him out the door. “I can take it from here.”

  “Alyson, are you sure—”

  I shut the door on him.

  “What is your name?” I asked, returning to the sofa. My houseguest was awake, but his eyes looked dazed and glassy as he tried to take in his surroundings.

  He didn’t seem to remember much else. He didn’t remember how he got to the shore, where he had come from, what he had been doing before that. But after frowning and searching his memories for a few minutes, he did seem to recall his own name. “Kieran.”

  I couldn’t place his accent. I wasn’t even sure it was an accent. Maybe he was just speaking strangely because of the ordeal, or a bump to the head. Maybe I should have taken him to the hospital after all.

  “You survived a shipwreck,” I said, taking a seat on the coffee table in front of him, my voice both grave and admiring at the same time. “That is pretty impressive, Kieran.”

  “Shipwreck…” he paused. Clearly, some details were starting to come back to him. They were just details that didn’t quite align with what I wanted to hear. “It was just a small fishing boat.”

  Ah well, that didn’t matter. Small details. I was happy to continue calling it a shipwreck. It sounded more dramatic that way. I waved dismissively.

  “Was there anyone else on the boat with you?”

  “I…I can’t remember.” He told me he was feeling tired and dizzy and needed to sleep. I nodded and stood up to get him a blanket.

  By the time I got back, he was already asleep.

  4

  Claire

  I felt like such a creep, staring down at this guy while he slept. Watching people sleep wasn’t one of my usual activities. Alyson had told me over the phone how cute he was and okay, I…kind of agreed with her? He was dark and handsome, but with the way he was sleeping with his mouth open and a little bit of drool coming out, it was a little difficult to see it. But Alyson was clearly smitten. Part of me wanted to ask her how Troy Emerald was, but I knew that question would end up with me getting an elbow to the ribs.

  Luckily, it was Matt’s night to have J. Matt and Alyson shared custody of their niece, and she had been with her uncle all weekend.

  “You’ll have to ask him to move out by the end of the week,” I pointed out. She’d only have her apartment to herself for another three days.

  Alyson nodded. She bit her lip. “Hopefully, that is enough time to figure out what has happened.”

  “What do you think has happened?”

  She pulled me aside just in case he heard. Or maybe he was only pretending to be asleep. From the way Alyson spoke about him, it seemed like she didn’t entirely trust him.

  “There must have been other survivors,” she said, keeping her voice low as we went out to the balcony. “Who just goes out into the ocean on a boat by themselves?”

  “Solo sailists,” I pointed out.

  Alyson sighed. I definitely had her there. “But look at this guy. He’s pretty tiny.” She was right about that, but I didn’t necessarily think that leanness correlated with not being able to sail a boat on one’s own. If anything, it might actually be an advantage. It would make him more nimble. I glanced down at my fresh manicure and shuddered at the thought of being out on a boat. I could not think of anything worse. But that didn’t make me admire the guy. It just made me think he was a fool. If you go out onto the ocean on your own, becoming shipwrecked was just the risk you ran.

  “Well, if there were other survivors, I suppose they will wash up soon enough,” I said, shrugging. I was hoping we could drop the subject now and maybe break out a cheese platter and some wine to make the evening a little more pleasant. But Alyson was not going to take that as an acceptable answer. I should have known.

  I’d
been back in Eden Bay—temporarily and casually, I do point out—for almost two months, but there were still some blasts from the past I had yet to bump into.

  One was about to rear its ugly head.

  Simon seemed to brace himself as we approached. Ugh. I hadn’t seen the guy in almost ten years. We had dated, briefly, in high school. He kinda grimaced as he saw us get nearer to him and I apologized to Alyson. “This is gonna be a little awkward,” I said, watching his face as we approached. “From the look of it, he still has some feelings for me and this could be a little difficult for you to witness.” See? This is why being back in my tiny home town didn’t suit me. I was always running into people I would rather leave behind in another lifetime. Poor Simon. I had broken his heart. That would have taken some getting over.

  I was glad I was looking my best, at least. Fresh manicure and because I had been staying out of the water, my hair was looking much fresher and icy blonde. Looking good always helps when you run into an ex. Makes them realize what they have been missing. I smiled, but not too brightly—didn’t want to make the guy feel too bad.

  But when we finally reached the lifeguard chair and he jumped down to greet us, Simon didn’t even look at me. It was Alyson he was eyeing with caution. He tried not to roll his eyes as he talked to her, but it looked like it took a lot of restraint. “There has been a full scan of the bay,” he said. “Helicopters and everything. No sharks today.”

  Alyson made her little bulldog face. Meanwhile, I just stood there like, hello, are you going to acknowledge me at all here?

  When I still hadn’t gotten the attention I required, I cleared my throat a little.

  He squinted at me a bit and cocked his head to the side as though trying to place me.

  “Claire?” he asked, as though he wasn’t even sure that was the right answer. He squinted so hard while trying to remember my last name that his eyes were practically closed.

  I straightened up and pursed my lips, feeling quite put out but trying not to show it. Alyson was trying not to laugh.

  “Claire Elizabeth Richardson,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Oh!” he said, then laughed. “That’s right. Didn’t you always insist that people used your middle name as well when they were addressing you?” He made me sound like I was the queen. Well, my middle name did match with hers. Alyson was still trying not to laugh.

  “I don’t make people do that anymore,” I said, looking at the sand. It had still stuck, though. That’s what making a big deal of things in high school does. People don’t tend to forget.

  Simon laughed a little. “So do you remember me?” he asked.

  “Of course. We went out for a while, Simon.”

  “Whoa, what is with your accent now?” he asked, laughing and taking a step back. He seemed to have no recollection of the fact that we had once dated.

  While I stood there licking my wounds and trying to remain unaffected, Alyson asked the question as bluntly as it was possible to ask it. “Have any people washed up on the beach?”

  Simon raised his eyebrows. “Umm, no.”

  Alyson smiled at him but turned to me with a disappointed look. “Darn,” she said under her breath.

  “Well, that was rude,” I said as we hurried away.

  “Aww, come on, you’re just mad because your fragile ego has been hurt.”

  I had come to an alternative conclusion about what had happened by that point. “No. Of course he remembered me, Alyson. He was just trying to save face. Playing games to make it seem like he has forgotten me.”

  “Okay, if that makes you feel better.”

  It did. Also, I had convinced myself that it was the truth.

  Alyson shook her head and once we were far enough, asked me, “Do you think that Simon was being honest with us? About no one else washing up on the beach, I mean.”

  Well, about that part, yes, I thought he was being honest. But Alyson clearly didn’t believe him. I raised my eyebrows. “You think that he found someone washed up on the sand and is secretly keeping that person in his apartment?” I bit my lip and tried not to laugh at the next part. It was really, really hard. “Because you would have to be crazy to do something like that.”

  Alyson just nodded and tried not to laugh in return. “Yeah, yeah. You got me there. Good point.”

  Yep. That would be crazy.

  We’d been walking for ages and I was getting tired. Clearly, we were not going to get the answers we needed that evening and it was starting to get dark. I was about to turn back and go home when Alyson pulled my arm back. “Woah, what is that?” she whispered. Alyson shot me a glare before I could answer. “And no, it is not a shark, okay. I can see that.”

  I was about to tell her it was just her overactive imagination again when I stopped. My heart also stopped beating for just a second. There actually was something on the sand. It wasn’t the right size to be a shark. It was also far too pale.

  The size was more…human. Arms. Legs. No fin.

  “Another shipwreck survivor?” I whispered as we approached. “You’re running out of room in your apartment, Alyson.” And there wasn’t a lot of room in that apartment to start with.

  Alyson walked behind me. For the first time, she didn’t seem quite so brave as we approached our latest find.

  It was another shipwrecked person, that was for sure. But I didn’t think Alyson was going to want this one in her apartment.

  Because the problem was…the body was not living.

  5

  Alyson

  The steam hit my face. This was to calm the nerves. His. Not mine. I was fine.

  Except that my hands were shaking a little as I pulled the tab on the can. My dog pricked his ears and wagged his tail, thinking it was a can of dog food.

  I wasn’t much of a cook. I guess soup doesn’t take that much effort to make from scratch, all you probably do is take some random vegetables and blend it up. Probably fry it in a frying pan? I’m not sure. I always got my soup from a can and just followed the instructions on the back. This one was plain tomato. I thought that would be easiest on the poor guy’s stomach. Nothing fancy, but it did smell okay. I seasoned it with some salt and pepper. That counted, right?

  If anyone was the cook in this household, it was J, but she was still at Matt’s until the end of the week, thank goodness. She had picked up a bunch of techniques from watching cooking competitions on TV, whereas I didn’t even have the patience to sit through an episode, let alone to actually cook a meal from scratch. It was all good anyway, as several nights of the week, Matt brought over food from Captain Eightball’s.

  Kieran was sitting up on the sofa, looking a lot brighter than he had the previous day. I hadn’t realized he had such tanned, olive skin. I suppose his pale pallor the past two days had been due to the shock of the shipwreck. I wanted to take another look at his wound, but he had been a little shy about letting me touch it. Well, he had been shy about even letting me near him. He’d barely talked to me, just slept the entire time he’d been in my apartment. But he grinned at me when he saw the steaming bowl coming toward him.

  “It’s not fresh,” I told him as I lowered the soup down on the tray. “It’s out of a can.” I hoped that didn’t disappoint him too much.

  “It smells delicious.”

  I sat on the edge of the couch and twiddled my thumbs for a moment.

  “Kieran, I have to tell you something.”

  It wasn’t an easy thing to have to describe. I watched his face as I told him about what Claire and I had discovered. Claire had been the one who had checked for a pulse. There hadn’t been one. The man had been young, around Kieran’s age, although he had pale blonde hair and freckles. He’d been identified as a man called Warren Reed, and there had been a fishing rod found near his body.

  It didn’t look like Warren had died of natural causes. He’d been hit on the head by something large and heavy. The body had been dead for several days, which was the same amount of time that Kieran had
been in my apartment.

  “It looked like he had been dead for quite some time,” I said quietly. “You weren’t the only person on that boat, were you, Kieran?” I wanted to give him the chance to explain it to me himself. Perhaps he didn’t even know that his friend, his crewmate, was dead. Or maybe it was all just a crazy coincidence and Warren and Kieran didn’t even know each other. But my instinct was telling me it was all related.

  He put the spoon down and set the bowl aside “I didn’t want to tell you about this incident, Alyson,” he said, staring into the pool of red liquid. “I did not want to frighten you.”

  Outside, there was a storm brewing. The light curtains were starting to flap in the wind. I could see the lightening over the sea and hear the thunder rolling in over the waves. If there was anyone out there surfing at this time, they were a brave soul indeed.

  “What incident?” I whispered, bringing my attention back to him.

  Kieran pushed the bowl even further away. It was still half full. “I—I don’t remember all the details.” His voice was low, almost whispery. “But something terrible happened out there on the seas.” He stared at me with his deep black eyes. “It was a dark night, a little bit similar to this one.” He nodded toward the window. Right at that moment, it slammed shut, and I jumped. My dog yelped and ran over to the sofa, jumping up beside Kieran for comfort.

  “What are you saying, Kieran?”

  But what he said next made my head spin even further.

  “I don’t remember anything about this, Alyson. I don’t remember anyone else on board, and I don’t remember a man named Warren.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Matt said, telling us to keep our voices down while he turned up the radio. I saw Claire shake her head as Matt turned up the volume on the local FM radio station. Claire doesn’t believe in radios, you see. She only listens to podcasts and classical jam music. She thinks everyone in Eden Bay is stuck in the 1990s and way too daggy and uncultured. But what is so bad about being stuck in the 90s? That’s what I’d like to know.