No Good Reason
Marg McAlister
No Good Reason
Copyright 2019 Marg McAlister
All Rights Reserved
GeorgieBGoode.com
Book Design by Annie Moril
Illawarra ePublishing electronic publication
EBooks are not transferable. All Rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner without permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the author’s permission.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Contents
About this book
1. An Elusive Client
2. Coming Together
3. Confrontation
4. Pieces of the Puzzle
5. Revelations
6. First Reading
7. Tugging at Threads
8. Reprisals
9. Undercover
10. Too Many Questions
11. An Invitation
12. The Players Gather
13. The Mist in the Crystal
14. Allie’s Idea
15. Crisis Point
16. Calling in the Team
17. Filming
18. More to Know
19. Harrison in Trouble
20. Going Ballistic
21. A Flash of Silver
22. Unexpected Visitors
23. The Hacker
24. An Understanding
25. Market Day
26. Reeling in the Fish
27. Show Time
28. More Revelations
29. End Game
30. Celebrations
Glossary
From the Author
The Georgie B. Goode Series
About this book
A spoilt rich kid hell-bent on revenge.
A good man about to give up on his dream.
And in the background, a secret that could destroy a family…
It sounds like a good plan to Georgie and Scott: a few days kayaking around the peaceful waters of St. Georges Basin.
But if there is one thing that Georgie has learned, it’s that real life tends to laugh at her plans.
A morning’s paddle along the canals of Sussex Inlet leads her to an embattled small business owner who can’t see a way out. His wife wants him to fight, and when she finds out that Georgie is a bit more than a carnival fortune-teller, begs for her help.
Georgie and Scott, aided by some cryptic insights from Georgie’s crystal ball, begin to tug at threads — and when it all starts to unravel, stumble across secrets that powerful people don’t want exposed.
And one of those secrets could make their new clients wish they’d never asked for help…
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Whether she wanted to believe it or not, from birth Georgie was destined to follow in her Great-Grandma Rosa’s footsteps—as well as inherit her crystal ball! Here’s your chance to find out more about the crabby old lady that Georgie sees as a kind of taciturn genie.
Join my Marg’s Updates list to find out about new books in the series, other great reads, new books in the pipeline… and to receive your complimentary copy of Rosa’s story in “Fortune’s Wheel”.
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1
An Elusive Client
They’d been paddling for hours, and there was still no sign of what they were hunting for.
Georgie pushed her sunglasses more firmly onto her nose against the glare of the sun glinting off the waters of Sussex Inlet and glanced across at the man paddling next to her with smooth, even strokes.
How things change, she thought. A scant year ago, working for her father at his RV Empire in Indiana, she had never heard of Scott Mowbray. Now, she couldn’t imagine life without him. She’d left behind her beloved gypsy trailer — well, replica gypsy trailer — and rapidly adapted to life in a well-equipped off-road rig, touring Scott’s home country of Australia.
What she hadn’t left behind was her crystal ball, or the tendency to attract people who needed her unique insights to help them solve their problems. It had taken her a while to admit that she had indeed inherited her great-grandma Rosa’s gift of the Sight, as well as her crystal ball, but finally she could no longer deny what she was. Twelve months of wandering the USA, most of it with Scott, had seen her fall naturally into being a kind of psychic detective before heading off overseas to meet his family.
The thought made her grin wryly. Psychic detective. Gypsy fortune-teller. It sounded ridiculous.
And yet here she was, with almost a year behind her of using the crystal ball to help people who needed her. One of the hardest things to explain was how she was, in some strange way, drawn to them. Like iron filings to a magnet.
Lulled by the sun on her back and the gentle slap of water on the hull of her kayak, Georgie lay her paddle across her lap and closed her eyes for a moment, drifting on the current while she listened to the warbling call of a currawong flying overhead.
A light breeze on her face, the smell of the outdoors, and nothing to do but relax. Bliss. This morning had been perfect, cruising the canals of Sussex Inlet with Scott; gliding past houses with stretches of lawn sweeping down to private jetties, waving at people working in their gardens or reading in deckchairs.
The only thing was, they still hadn’t found what she was looking for, and now she was beginning to wonder if they would. Yet the crystal ball was rarely wrong. It could be cryptic, yes…but the same image two nights in a row?
She could still see the picture clearly in her mind: a couple of canoes upended on a grassy stretch near water with a white truck parked in the background. She had been sure they would see the place, paddling around the canals — and she knew that whoever owned the property would be the person who needed her help.
She sighed. There was something driving her to find that place.
“Hey.” Scott’s voice carried across the short stretch of water between them, and she heard the swish of a his paddle before a spray of water splashed on her bare knee. “Going to sleep on the job? We’ve got to paddle back yet.”
She smiled, not opening her eyes. “I’m enjoying the serenity. And the tide’s doing all the work anyway.”
“Maybe so, but you need to pay a little bit of attention. Like now, maybe?”
Georgie turned to squint at him, then followed his pointing finger to see the bank a lot closer than she expected. “Oh. Right.” She grabbed her paddle and used it to push back from the tangle of tree roots. “Momentary lapse.”
They continued on, lazily matching stroke for stroke, until finally Scott said, “So what do you want to do? Keep looking?”
“Let’s go back to the jetty at Sussex Inlet,” she suggested. “Load the kayaks on the car, have a cup of coffee. See what happens.”
“Just wait for your next client to come to you?” he said.
“Something like that,” Georgie said, unperturbed. “Never failed in the past.”
Two kilometers downstream, Chris Moore stopped tinkering with the motor on his ride-on mower, sighed, and finally gave his son some attention.
“No, Drew,” he said. “I’m not starting up a Facebook page, and I’m not doing that Twitter thing. I don’t understand Twitter. That’s your scene, not mine.”
“But
Dad, it’s easy. You can take photos with your phone and post them on Facebook while you’re paddling, and so can your clients. It’s a no-stress way to promote the business.”
No stress, thought Chris bitterly. For the past eight months, his business had been nothing but stress.
Clearly, his face mirrored his thoughts, because Drew sighed and said, “I get it that things are tough right now. But it’s a glitch, Dad. Things will pick up again. People around here know you. It’ll all go away.”
Chris grunted, wishing it could be that easy.
“I’ll help you. I’ll set up everything, so all you have to do is take a photo, press a button and zap! It’ll be online.”
“Drew.” Chris closed his eyes, suddenly feeling the weight of it all pressing down on him, backed up by anger that it had come to this. “It’ll take more than a few photos to fix things. And maybe it’s time I thought about retiring anyway.”
“Retire?” Drew’s voice betrayed his shock. “You’re not old enough to retire!”
“Fifty-four next month.” These days, he felt a lot older than fifty-four. “I’m tired of fighting this. It’s time I started enjoying life again.”
Drew squatted beside him, concern warring with desperation on his face. “But you were saving for your retirement, so you and Mum didn’t have to worry about money. You’re not ready yet.”
“And the way things are going, I’ll be lucky to save another cent. I might as well call it quits.”
“You can’t!” Drew reached out to him, his hand closing over his father’s forearm. “You love what you do. You always told us, ‘Make a living doing what you love and you’ll never work a day in your life’…remember?”
“Right now, it feels like work,” Chris said, giving up on the lawn mower and gathering his tools. “Nothing’s gone right since that Burns boy brought drugs into the program. Do you know how many schools I’ve lost? How many corporate clients I’ve lost? This is the second week without a hint of a customer. Not even a walk-in.” He stood up and said in a voice ragged with defeat, “Unless there’s a dramatic turnaround, I’m throwing in the towel.”
“You can’t,” Drew repeated helplessly, rising to his feet with him.
Chris shook his head and looked away. He was disappointing his son, he knew, but how much could a man take?
“I agree with Drew,” came a calm female voice from behind them. “You can’t give in yet, Chris.”
He turned to find Allie looking at him, her salt-and-pepper hair tamed into the usual thick braid that fell down her back, her green eyes steady. “Remember those early years, when you battled to start it up? We had some hard times, but you were convinced you could do it.”
“We were a lot younger, then,” he pointed out, beginning to feel outnumbered. “It was hard work, but we knew we could do it. This stuff? It’s different. Once the word’s got out that you can’t be trusted, that kids aren’t safe in your care, it’s all over.”
“You know there’s no substance to that,” Allie said. “Everyone around here knows it, too, and they’ll say so. Harrison Burns was out of control. The school principal thinks the same, or he wouldn’t have expelled him.”
“Tell that to the parents,” he said. “Tell it to all the schools that cancelled. What I hear is that they’ve decided to use companies that demonstrate,” he made quote marks in the air, “appropriate duty of care.”
Allie said nothing for a moment, then she sighed. “Just don’t do anything rash. Please, Chris. Give it a few more months. And let Drew set up Facebook and Twitter for you. It can’t hurt.”
“And Instagram,” Drew added. “Piece of cake, Dad.”
Chris was silent, thinking about the insurance claim that had just come through for the kayaks and trailer that had been stolen the previous month. That was money in the bank, money he and Allie might need. The little bit of money she made from her arts and crafts at the markets certainly wouldn’t see them through their retirement. What was the point in buying a bunch of new canoes? He’d only have to sell them at a loss.
“Just until the end of June,” Allie begged. “If you still feel the same way then, I promise we’ll sit down and work out some kind of alternative.”
His wife and son both stared at him, their faces hopeful.
He couldn’t say ‘no’ to them. Chris already knew, in his gut, that it was useless. They were entering a quiet time after Easter, with winter just around the corner. How was he supposed to turn things around in the off season, with no business coming his way and now petty vandalism to cope with as well?
To him, the outcome was clear. But if it would make Allie and Drew smile again, he could hang on for another few months.
“All right,” he said, knowing he sounded ungracious. “I suppose so. End of June, then.”
“Yes!” Drew sighed in relief. “I’ll get to work on the social media for you right away, Dad.”
“Thanks, Chris.” Allie moved forward and kissed his cheek, rubbing his back reassuringly. “Why don’t we all go in and have a council of war, like we used to when we were just beginning? Work out the next step.”
He couldn’t face it now. “Later. After dinner. I’m going in to meet Frank now, pick up a part for the mower. Need anything?”
“No thanks,” Allie said. He caught the quick look that she exchanged with Drew, but pretended he didn’t see it. They’d probably guessed there was no mower part to pick up, but they wouldn’t argue.
“I might drop over tonight, help you plan,” Drew said. “That okay?”
Stifling an impulse to say ‘not tonight’, Chris nodded. “Sure.” He looked at his watch, as though time was important. “I’d better go. See you both later.”
He fished his keys out of his pocket, climbed into his truck and drove through the gate, dredging up a smile and a wave.
They watched him go, neither looking happy.
Chris couldn’t wait to get out of there.
2
Coming Together
The moment Georgie walked back from the cafe to the parking lot and saw the 4WD parked next to their LandCruiser, she knew. Her footsteps slowed, and she nudged Scott. “That truck.”
Scott looked where she was pointing, and saw the company logo. “Moore Canoes and Kayaks?”
“Yes.” Her pulse rate increased a fraction. “Remember what I saw? Canoes upended on grass, near water somewhere, and there was a white truck. It can’t be a coincidence.”
“But not necessarily this truck. You didn’t get a name.”
“No.” She walked around the truck, taking in the roof racks with cradles, the gear in the back seat. Her certainty grew; that odd feeling of coming home, of arrowing in on what she was meant to know. “It’s him, I know it. The owner of this, or somebody close to him.”
He leaned against the LandCruiser and grinned at her. “Well, congrats. You’ve done it again. I guess we wait for him to come back. And then…” he trailed off and raised an eyebrow.
“And then the tricky part,” Georgie acknowledged with a sigh. “It’s easy enough if they are open to this kind of stuff, if they know who I am and come to find me, but if I have to go to them…”
“It’s like a salesman making a cold call,” Scott said. He mimicked her American accent. “Hi, you don’t know me, but I’m an eighth-generation gypsy with the Sight, and my crystal ball tells me you’re in trouble. Can we talk?”
She laughed ruefully. “Exactly.”
“We can start by asking him about kayaks.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Scott indicated a seat a short distance from the parking lot, overlooking the water. “Might be a long wait. Want to sit?”
“I’ve got a better idea.” Georgie nodded at the nearby boat hire shed, where they could see a youth cleaning a runabout. “Let’s do some regular detecting first. See what we can find out about Moore Canoes and Kayaks before he comes back.”
Spending an hour talking to Frank hadn't really helped much, Chris
had to admit. His old friend seemed to be of the same mind as Allie and Drew: You’re having a bad run, that’s all. Just put your head down and work through it.
All very well, Chris thought, as long it wasn't your business that had hit the skids.
Morosely, he crossed the road and headed for his car, feeling more like climbing into it and going for a long, long drive than go back home and knowing that Allie was walking on egg shells around him. He paused for a for a moment, watching a fishing boat motor slowly by. He could always take some time out; go back for his kayak and spend a few hours paddling around the basin.
Even that seemed to have lost its appeal for now.
No, he just have to go home and talk to Allie; try not to snap at her when she wanted to talk about how they could save the business.
He pressed the button to unlock the door, then looked up when he heard footsteps coming his way. It was a young couple: a woman clad in white cotton shorts and a matching top and a tall fellow in shorts and a T-shirt, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. The man gave him a nod then aimed his key fob at the LandCruiser in the next parking bay.
Chris looked at the kayaks lashed to their roof racks. “Been exploring the inlet?”
“Sure have,” said the man. “Beautiful area.”
The woman smiled at Chris, and he saw her glance at the logo on his truck. “Moore Canoes and Kayaks. You must know these waterways like the back of your hand.”
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