Gnarly New Year (Corsario Cove Cozy Mystery #2)

by Anna Celeste Burke

  “I heard them yelling about Owen’s storage unit being empty when they came back after searching it and went at Goddard again. I couldn’t see what was going on, but I could hear it. You’re going to think I’m a coward. All I wanted to do was stay out of the way. When they doped me up, I was grateful. I hoped if they were going to kill me they’d do it while I was knocked out. Shoot me or kill me with an overdose. Every time one of those guys dragged me out of that bathroom, I thought that was it. In the movies when you’ve seen their faces, you know it’s only a matter of time before they put a bullet in your head. Goddard was one tough dude.”

  “You were no coward, Mick. You’re right that Goddard was unbreakable! When you told us this story earlier, you left out the part about their plan to pin Goddard’s murder on you. No wonder they kept you around as long as they did.”

  I felt sorry for Mick and Bob Goddard. That visit to Owen’s storage unit and the other wild goose chases Goddard sent them on must have bought them some time. Not enough, however.

  "Who would ever have thought to look for you two on board a boat?" I muttered aloud. "Bob Goddard accomplished two heroic deeds. Keeping his family out of it, for one. If anyone had a clue about the location of that GPS device, it would have been his son. He's the one who had joined forces to sell stolen, pirated goods online for Owen. If he'd given up that info, the kidnappers might have made a grab for Goddard’s kid."

  "He was lucky that since his kid’s a minor, the papers didn't go into all those details." Brien was right, of course. Luck always plays a bigger part in what happens to us than we'd like to admit.

  "The other thing Goddard did was save Mick’s neck with his story that he was some homeless guy. That must have kept them from taking a closer look at him any sooner than they did."

  "That could be true, Kim, but who better to set up as the patsy for Goddard’s murder than a homeless drifter?” I shrugged. Mitchum was probably correct, but that didn't change my notion that Goddard had died a hero. Mick must have believed that, too. Our discussion was getting to him.

  “I was all torn up about what they were doing to him since I had the GPS with me all along,” Mick said. He fought back angry tears as he told us, once again, how in their haste to get out of that bar, they had missed him stuffing that bag inside his Santa suit. “I kept thinking somebody would find us if we could just stay alive, you know? What would stop them from killing us once they had what they wanted? So I hid it as long as I could.”

  “You were right, Mick. That’s what eventually did happen,” I said.

  “After a while, I couldn’t even have told you what day it was. Yesterday, though, that beefy guy put a few things together. Maybe it was something from the news coverage or that big shot they kept calling figured out I was not homeless, and that I knew Owen and the rest of you.”

  “Brien did make it into the news with that 'Santa’s killers caught by Super Surfer' story," I said in a jocular tone, trying to lighten up the mood. It didn't work.

  “That story also mentioned that a Sanctuary Grove resident, Mick Meyer, was wanted for questioning,” Mitchum added. “You wore a disguise and lied about why you were following Brien and Kim around town, but you gave them your real name. didn’t you?” Mick didn’t say anything in response but shook his head “yes.”

  “Yesterday, they asked me again what I was really doing in that alley behind the bar. I repeated a story I made up about following tourists and hoping to score a wallet or their shopping bags. The first time I told them that story, they had laughed. This time, there were no jokes about bad Santa. They went to work on me. Called me a liar and asked questions about Sanctuary Grove and where Owen put that GPS. I kept saying I didn’t know, and told them to search my shack if they didn't believe me. They left.”

  “They did as you suggested, Mick. Your pal Willow took off again, but not until she called and reported cove-runners on a rampage in Sanctuary Grove. She didn’t stay on the phone long enough to explain how she knew who the troublemakers were.” Tap, tap, tap went Mitchum's feet.

  “Is she safe?” Mick asked.

  “Yes, she’s staying with her sister. Someone on our team is following up with her. Maybe she can tell us something that will help us identify Larry and Curly. Who knows?” Twitch, twitch and give the mustache a yank. I was beginning to anticipate the Detective’s nervous gestures.

  “When they came back empty-handed, they took it out on me. This time, that bag I'd kept hidden slipped out while they were roughing me up. I knew I was a goner when I saw the look in Larry’s eyes. He punched me so hard, it knocked me out.” I winced along with Mick as he relived that moment.

  “It was dark when I woke up again. They dragged me up on deck. That’s when they forced me to drink gin and poured the rest all over me. Goddard was up on deck, too, and he wasn’t moving. I thought he was already dead. The only lucky thing for me was that they had taken that duct tape off my hands and feet after dragging me up there like a sack of potatoes. Stupid, huh?”

  “Well, it would have been hard to frame you for murder if you were found drowned with your hands and feet bound, Mick.”

  “I'm sure you’re right, Gidget. I still didn’t know that was their plan, and I sure didn’t have one of my own since I could hardly think straight. I was just lying there, pretending I was still out cold. They shot Goddard, and that's when I heard Larry say they were going to put that gun in my hand so my prints would be on it. I've never been more scared in my life. It was unreal." Mick paused for a second, looked around him at the garden, touched the bench on which he sat. It was like he was checking to make sure his current situation was, in fact, real. I recognized what he was going through because I'd had a moment or two like that myself.

  "It took both of them to shove Goddard's body overboard. While they had their hands full, I ducked out. My Santa bag was lying there on the deck, so I grabbed it as I dove overboard. It was even colder in the water than on that boat deck, but that cleared my head a little. I swam for it, letting the tide carry me, and washed up in tide pools. I got my bearings and worked my way back to the resort through the woods.”

  Even telling that story for the second time, Mick shook as bad as he had when he first told us about it. I had to give the guy credit for being more resourceful than I ever dreamed he could be. More anger than fear registered when he spoke again.

  “They had no right to that GPS gizmo. Opie wanted Willow to have it, and it belongs to her, now. Whatever Opie found—that’s hers, too.” How much of Mick’s resourcefulness and determination had to do with his feelings for Willow? I wondered. Maybe he had a bit of the hero in him, too, like Goddard.

  “That all depends on what Owen found, Mick. It’s a police matter and for the courts to decide.” I thought Mick would blow a gasket as Mitchum spoke.

  “That’s why I told you not to get the police involved, Brien.” The anger fled, like air escaping from a balloon. Defiance was replaced by resignation on his battered face. The poor guy had been running on adrenaline for days.

  Anger at those thugs had me riled up. After what he had gone through, Mick deserved to know the truth. What had Owen found? What if that cave still held answers, even without the GPS device or the coordinates on it?

  We all just sat there for a moment. The contrast between the ugliness of Mick’s story and the beauty of our surroundings touched me. I reached over and clutched Brien’s hand. It was as if a clean, fresh breeze passed through my troubled mind. That feeling didn't last long. Mitchum popped up on his feet.

  “Helluva New Year’s Eve, you two. Will this honeymoon of yours ever end?” I was about to say something I would probably have regretted later when a voice called out.

  “Detective Mitchum,” we turned to find that hotel representative we had seen earlier striding toward us. “The all clear has been sounded. You and your party are free to return to the hotel. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

  “Was there a fire?” I asked, impulsively.

 
“Yes. Nothing that put anyone in any danger. A small fire in a stairwell waste basket. My hunch is someone ditched a lit cigarette, and it caught fire. It happens once in a while, despite the resort's strict non-smoking policy.”

  “Okay, well thanks for the update,” I said. With that, she took off. Mitchum walked back with us as far as that courtyard then split.

  “I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to stay put here at the resort. Enjoy the festivities, but please, do yourselves a favor and don’t go into town, okay?” We all nodded. He had a point. The day had been plenty bizarre already. Who in their right mind would go looking for more trouble?

  8 nude awakenings

  Once Mitchum left, we returned to our suite. We had another surprise waiting for us. As I reached for the door, I realized it was slightly ajar. My heart rate sped up a little. In our rush, had we done that? Was someone in there? Had that fire been started on purpose and the alarm set off so someone could sneak in and wait for our return? I motioned for Brien.

  “Door’s ajar,” I whispered in his ear as he bent down. He got it immediately.

  “Stay here,” he whispered in reply. What I had in mind was going back downstairs and getting hotel security to come check it out. Instead, Brien sprang into action. He bolted into the sitting room, practically ripped one of the table lamps from its electric socket, and held it up over his head like a gladiator wielding a mallet or a mace. The sitting room was empty. Brien placed a finger to his lips, dashed through the French doors into our bedroom and returned in a matter of seconds.

  “Housekeeping,” he said. In his hand, he held a little gold box of chocolates and a note from housekeeping. They had cleaned the room while we were downstairs. Why not? We hadn’t placed the do not disturb sign on the door when we left.

  “Why didn’t they shut that door?” I wondered aloud.

  “Maybe they were in a rush with the fire and the alarm and all the confusion, Gidget.” Mick yawned and stretched as he made a beeline for that chaise lounge on the veranda. I watched him slip out the door in his hotel robe and slippers. Then it hit me. Why would anyone be cleaning rooms with a fire alarm screaming at them?

  “Mick’s clothes!” I dashed into the closet off our bathroom. I had left those wet clothes in a laundry bag—a black bag hotel guests could use to send out their personal items for cleaning.

  “Gone! It’s gone, Brien. The bag with Mick’s clothes in it is gone!” I stood there with both fists balled up. “What if that whole fire alarm deal was a distraction to get us out of our room so they could search it?” Brien stood up from where he had been on his knees, plugging that lamp back in.

  “It’s okay, Kim. There probably wasn’t much the police could do with those stinky things. If somebody searched the room, they know we're not hiding anything. And, if they took that bag thinking the GPS device was in it, they’re in for a nude awakening!” I blinked.

  “A what?”

  “A nude awakening. When you’re suddenly faced with the naked truth. It’s not always pretty, Kim.”

  “Rude awakening, Brien. Not nude.” He blinked back at me.

  “The naked truth can be rude, but…” I interrupted him, speaking of rude.

  “Oh, never mind. I’m going to call Alex to ask if housekeeping was really in here during a fire drill or whatever it was. Not that I believe bad guys would have made the bed and left us chocolates.”

  “Delicious chocolates, too. You want one?” Brien popped a little truffle in his mouth as he asked that question.

  “No, I’ve had too much sugar today as it is. I feel almost as jittery as Twitchin’ Mitchum. What is it with that guy?” I groused under my breath as I waited for someone to answer the call I had placed to room service. When they picked up, I asked to speak to Alex. No luck, dang it. I left him a voice mail message inquiring about housekeeping’s visit to our suite.

  I hung up the phone and dragged myself out to the veranda. Brien was polishing off the rest of those chocolates with a canned espresso he must have found in the tiny, well-stocked fridge in our suite. I slumped into a chair next to him and pondered our situation. Despite our vow to stay out of it, here we were knee deep in muck and mire. How had we gotten into this mess? Mick's turning up on our doorstep, so to speak, was a big part of the problem but not all of it.

  Why had those two stooges been interested enough in us to follow us around that day? Had it been the news coverage, or Davis’ accusations that we were in cahoots with Owen? Were his suspicions enough to get the Rich Guy with deep pockets to have us followed? Visiting Willow at the hospital the day after that confrontation with Davis could have added fuel to the fire, inflaming speculation that we were plotting with her. It also probably didn't help that we had wandered around behind Corsario's Hideaway and tried to have a chat with Goddard. Interesting how shady an innocent set of events could look, reflecting on them later. I had to admit, Brien and I sure appeared to be mixed up in the mess with Owen. If that was true and we were all in it together, why hadn’t Goddard welcomed us into his bar when we knocked? That was a question I hope Rich Guy never got close enough to ask.

  If only Mick hadn’t decided to follow us that day, rather than finish what he had set out to do and deliver that GPS device to Willow. If they had called the police, things might have gone in a different direction for Mick and the rest of us. Not that he seemed worried about it. He dozed in the chaise lounge.

  He had to be exhausted by the ordeal. Who could blame him for that? Trying to fight off the sense of impending doom that engulfed me, I made a few half-hearted attempts to dig up background information about the resort developers. I didn’t have my laptop, so I searched the web on my smart phone. That was slow going but I did find a few old pictures of the development team.

  When I roused Mick from his sleepy state to take a look, he recognized none of them as the Rich Guy he had seen talking with Davis and the diver we now called Larry. Nor was the Rich Guy in pictures I showed him of happy developers sitting around a conference table or posing with members of the San Albinus City Council on a newly opened boardwalk. Not long after, Mick dropped off, again, snoring this time.

  Maybe I was crashing after that sugar and caffeine binge, but I felt despondent and almost paralyzed by our circumstances. Brien had just the opposite reaction. He was buzzing. That new jolt of chocolate and caffeine had pushed him into hyper-drive. Brien sat down and tried to watch surf videos on his phone. Two minutes later, my hunky surfer dude popped up and headed back inside to our suite. In no time, he returned with a new suggestion about what to do next.

  “The coffee and donuts have me wired. All the grievous things going on around us, too. We must have caught Jessica’s calamity magnetism. You want to go to the gym and work out with me, Gidget?” Those sentences spewed forth at a startling speed, running together without a pause or a breath in between them.

  “Oh, I’d like to work out with you, all right, Moondoggie. Too bad we’re stuck babysitting.”

  “This New Year’s Eve sucks, so far, doesn’t it?”

  "Having a drunken, snarky surfer dude in a Santa suit fall on our floor at the crack of dawn was bad. Listening to his sad story while our detective friend with nervous tics slid closer and closer toward his dark side was worse. A fire and two dead bodies in one day, the worst. Not what I had in mind as a way to say goodbye to the old year.”

  Sucks, was putting it mildly, I thought. I stopped before uttering those words aloud, trying to halt my plunge into despair. Instead, I stood and took a couple of steps toward Brien. I stood on my tiptoes and planted a big kiss on Brien's luscious lips.

  “Mick won’t be here much longer. Mitchum is going to pick him up and take him into protective custody, and then you can make it up to me.”

  “That’s a promise!” Brien lifted me up off the ground and twirled me around. My head was still spinning when he put me back down, smothering me with kisses. With a knock on the door, new hope sprang into my heart.

  “Ooh, Br
ien, maybe that’s Mick’s new babysitters.” Brien wasn’t convinced and shifted into hypervigilant mode. The fire-and two-dead-bodies part of our eventful New Year’s Eve had not been lost on him, either. He pressed a finger to those dreamy lips I had been smooching, then quietly made his way to the door and peered through the peephole. I saw a wave of relief flow over him as all his tensed muscles relaxed.

  “It’s Alex.” Still being cautious, Brien opened the door but left the security chain on it. “Hey, Alex, what’s up?”

  “I may know where that bag is—both bags. I got Kim's message.” He looked over his shoulder as if concerned that someone might overhear him.

  “Wait, I’ll let you in.” Brien closed the door, removed the security chain, and then reopened it. Alex stepped into the room and Brien shut the door behind him.

  “I’ve been asking around, and one of the women in housekeeping thinks she might have picked it up and tossed it in with the other laundry on her cart. A black cloth bag, kind of like our Santas carry around here. She remembers it because it was wet, stinky, and lying on the floor near one of the elevators. Housekeeping was in here already today, too. The room number was posted as one that had been cleaned. Whoever cleaned it would have had to swipe a card to get in, so there's probably a record of the time they entered the room if it's important to know.”

  “It could be. Let's take care of the bag search for now. How do we find it?” I asked.

  “Find what?” We all turned to see Mick peering in at us from the veranda through the screen door. Still half asleep, he wasn't all that careful about his bathrobe.

  “Mick, shut the robe, Dude. We’ve seen more than enough of you for one day.” I glanced at Brien, then at Alex, who had a smirk on his face. Here we go again, I thought. Before I could say a word to clarify matters, Alex spoke.