Killer Honeymoon

by Traci Tyne Hilton

  The eggs were ready to flip when the front door shut with a bang.

  Jake stepped into the kitchen wordlessly, his face drained of color. He picked up his cell phone with a shaking hand.

  “A big raccoon?” Jane asked.

  “A person.”

  Jane dropped the spatula in the pan and stared. A person. A dead person. “You’re kidding.”

  He shook his head, then wandered into the other room. His voice was indistinct as he spoke to the 911 operator.

  She didn’t join him in the front room. She had made that call enough times on her own.

  But she did turn off the pan and slip out the back door.

  The Crawford beach house backed to the ocean, on top of a rolling dune. The land around it that she had called “yard” was firm and sandy and didn’t grow much but dune grass. A shed sat to the side of the yard, out of the way of all of the view windows. The door was ajar.

  Jane took a deep breath and forged ahead. Whoever lay in the shed wouldn’t look like much, if he or she smelled this bad. Jane put her hand to her nose and pulled open the door.

  The pile of person on the floor of the shed wore a denim jacket, a pair of work boots, and a grisly aspect that made Jane turn away, stomach painfully retching, before she could take any further notes. She let go of the door and let it swing behind her while she doubled over, dry heaving, thankful she hadn’t eaten that big breakfast yet.

  As soon as she pulled herself together, she made her way back into the house—the ringing of police sirens already sounding in the distance.

  The police who came to the door were kind, friendly. They looked like father and son, but when they introduced themselves, they weren’t. “Josh Barret,” the younger man, a sergeant, by his stripes, said, tapping his chest.

  “Dave Ross. You can call me Dave.” The older man puffed a breath through his bushy mustache. “You poor kids.” He didn’t rush out to the shed, but took their statements. “You say you noticed a bad smell last night but didn’t go out to check it?”

  Jane’s face heated. “Right. We figured it was a raccoon or something.”

  “We’re on our honeymoon.” Jake stood, legs apart, arms crossed, and shook his head.

  “You from Portland?” Josh asked.

  “Yeah.” Jane was glad to turn the conversation from their romantic plans.

  “Have you heard much about the missing teens?” Inspector Dave asked. “Five local kids went missing three weeks ago. And each of the nearby towns have lost kids, too.” He shook his head. “I hope to God this body isn’t a sign of what’s been happening.”

  Jane gripped Jake’s hand. She’d dealt with murder plenty, but not serial killers. That was out of her league.

  “Let’s go look at the guy before we jump to any conclusions.” Josh stared out the front window at the roiling sea.

  “Yup. We’d better.”

  Jake led the men outside to the shed. Jane…couldn’t.

  She wrapped herself in a blanket and stared at the sea. Whoever was out there, decomposing in the shed, had died a while ago. Three weeks, maybe even. But this was her honeymoon. A week to rest, relax, and grow more and more in love with Jake.

  She settled into the wicker sofa. The body wasn’t kid-sized, so she supposed Inspector Dave had meant five local youths or young adults had gone missing. If so, Jake probably found one. But why? Had someone kidnapped them to kill them and leave them in sheds up and down the coast? And if so, why start with hers?

  Or perhaps they hadn’t started with hers. How many houses were vacation homes not currently occupied? How many sheds could now join the Warrenton haunted sheds tour?

  No. This was her honeymoon. She was going to leave the murder to the professionals.

  Someone drove up the gravel drive. Jane went to the door and watched a professional-looking woman in a lab coat exit a panel wagon. Most likely the county medical examiner. Jane let the blanket drop from her shoulders. What would the medical examiner see that she had been too stunned to notice?

  The ME joined the crowd at the shed, with Jane right behind her.

  “Judy.” Inspector Dave shook the medical examiner’s hand. “I’m hoping it’s not one of our fellas.” He gave his head a quick shake.

  “He’s somebody’s son, anyway.” Judy knelt beside the body, her hands on her knees, just looking at it. “He’s not in good shape.” Judy already had latex gloves on and gingerly pressed on the shoulder. There wasn’t much left to see of the face or the hands. “I’ll get him home and give him a thorough exam.” She stood up again.

  A young man who had come with her rolled a cot into the shed.

  “I’ll help,” Josh said. He swallowed hard.

  Inspector Dave had tears in his eyes. “Thanks.”

  While the two men loaded the deceased into a black body bag and onto the cart, Inspector Dave and Dr. Judy walked into the shed. Inspector Dave kicked the east wall lightly. “Looks like the critters came in here.”

  “Was the door open?” Judy asked.

  “It was unlocked, but latched,” Jake said.

  “Then I’m with you, Dave. The critters who made a meal of him got in that way.” She swatted away buzzing flies. “If there’s nothing in his pockets, we’ll have to go by his teeth. If he was local, we’ll know who he was.” Dr. Judy’s attention turned to the far wall hung with body boards. “What’s this, then?” Her gloved hand went to a faded purple rectangle of rigid foam used for playing in the ocean.

  Jane followed Inspector Dave to the wall.

  “Looks like a bullet hole.” Dave’s face was grim. “Maybe the first shot missed.”

  Judy sighed. “We’ll know more after the exam.” She left the shed, not seeming to notice Jane.

  Jane went around to the ME’s van. Josh and the other guy were shutting the back.

  Dr. Judy stopped at the young men. “Thanks, Josh.”

  The other guy popped open the passenger door.

  “You and Sadie can still come by for dinner. I’ll get takeout.”

  “I can bring something,” Josh offered.

  “Thanks, hon.” She kissed the side of his head and went to her own car door.

  “See you tonight, Mom.” Josh waved as the van pulled out.

  Inspector Dave offered Jake his hand. “Again, real sorry about this. He’s gone now, though, and you can get back to your honeymooning.”

  Jake’s mouth was a grim line. “Don’t worry about us. We aren’t the ones who are suffering right now.”

  “We’ll be here a while,” Jane said. “Please let us know what we can do.”

  Inspector Dave patted the pocket he had slipped his notepad into. “Not much you can do. You just got here last night. But I’ve got your number. I’ll call if something comes up.”

  Jake slipped his arm around Jane’s waist, and they watched from the driveway until the police car was gone.

  CHAPTER 3

  They skipped breakfast, spending most of the morning walking close to the ocean, the firm, wet sand beneath their feet a comfort. The roaring of the ocean meant they didn’t really need to speak.

  It was natural to keep walking until they found themselves, around lunchtime, at Serendipity Café on Main Street.

  “We can go home.” Jake took a deep drink from his mug of coffee. “Not that home is all that much.”

  Jane dragged her fingers through her salt-wind-whipped hair. “I don’t think we should go.”

  Jake exhaled. “I’m glad. You’re going to hate the condo so much. I just can’t even think of taking you there yet.”

  Jane let a little smile escape. “I don’t hate the condo. It’s a great condo. Most girls my age would give their life savings to live in a place like that.”

  “But you almost got a mansion in a gentrified upper-crust enclave.”

  “True. But we get rent from the mansion, so that’s probably even better.”

  Jake turned serious again. “Are you sure you don’t want to leave? We can go up to
Astoria or get a hotel. Or there’s a fun little haunted bed-and-breakfast called the Marlow House not far from here.”

  “We’re already well on the way to a haunted honeymoon, I’d say.” Jane stirred her tea. She was off balance. Not thinking. That was the only explanation for ordering tea before afternoon.

  A waiter with pink streaks in her hair delivered Jane a cilantro and lime chicken wrap and a big burger covered in mushrooms for Jake.

  Jake took a huge bite, but Jane just picked at her food.

  “Do you think I’m ready to tackle a serial killer?” she asked.

  “You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet. You’re not ready to tackle anybody.”

  “I’ve helped bring five other suspicious deaths to a conclusion, catching more than a few murderers.” The memory of the crazed Cora Paige waving the soapy knife at everyone in her kitchen popped immediately to mind. “And I survived our wedding.”

  “I don’t like the way you’re looking at me,” Jake said, his face a study in mock-fear. “I didn’t do anything to poor Franny!”

  Jane looked away and felt her face heat up. Their banter brought to mind finding Jake’s dad, his heart attack the result of potassium poisoning—though his death had technically been an accident. “I’m sorry.”

  Jake smiled. “Listen, my love, if we can’t make jokes about murder, we will never survive your calling. Or life in general. And I want to survive.”

  “Still…”

  “No. Don’t beat yourself up for accidentally hitting close to home. While I wish my parents were still with us”—a dark, sad look crossed his face—“wanting it can’t make it happen. And laughing keeps me from jumping off a cliff. Okay? Please laugh with me.”

  Murder. Death. Orphans. None of it was funny. But you had to do something to keep facing life every single day, and Jane knew Jake well enough to know that laughing at tragedy would help more than anything else. “I can’t promise I won’t hate myself when I accidentally make a joke that could hurt you. But if I see you laughing, I will laugh with you.”

  “Thank you.” Jake picked up her hand and kissed it. “Besides, if my mom were still alive, she would never have let me marry the maid.” He lifted an eyebrow, daring Jane to laugh.

  She just shook her head. It was a little funny because he was right. Barb wouldn’t have liked this wedding, for all her support of Jane’s hard work and industry.

  Jake squashed his burger down and took a big bite.

  Jane nibbled her roll-up. The cilantro and lime were perfectly balanced. She ate a little more before she spoke. “I don’t feel up to catching a serial killer. And I don’t like that feeling.”

  “What makes you think this was the work of a psycho?”

  “All the missing kids. This body must be one of them, and they must all have been killed and stowed in sheds up and down the coast. Don’t you think?”

  “I’d bet not, if I was asked to make a bet.” He put his burger down. “This is our honeymoon, our vacation.”

  She sighed. Of course it was. He wouldn’t want her to do any sleuthing during their last days together before he ran off to Thailand for a month.

  “You need to call Rocky and Flora.” He straightened his shoulders. “If this is going to be a working vacation, it needs to count toward your supervised hours.”

  Jane reached across the table for his hand. “I’m sorry. I won’t. I don’t want to leave the Crawford Cabin. I want to stay here and have a romantic week.”

  “Phoebe got the Crawford Cabin. This is technically the beach house. The cabin is out by Cultus Lake.” He took another drink of his coffee and acted like having more than one vacation property was perfectly normal.

  “Any other homes away from home I should know about?” Jane allowed herself to be distracted from the decision she was about to make regarding turning her honeymoon into a supervised work trip.

  “I promise as soon as I get back we will sit down with the money guy and go over the whole portfolio.”

  “So that’s a yes?”

  “Is it a home if someone else lives in it?”

  “Could you just give me a clear answer on the one part of that question? How many homes could you and I spirit ourselves away to at a moment’s notice?”

  “It took more than a moment’s notice to get the beach house clean and warm and stocked with good food and dead bodies for you, my macabre darling.”

  “Jake.” Jane narrowed her eyes and contemplated splashing him with a finger full of tea. “You did not get a dead body for me, and you are avoiding the question.”

  He scratched the back of his neck. “Do you really want to do this now?”

  “Yes.”

  “You and I live in the Pear District condo. We own the Laurelhurst house. We own the Warrenton house, here at the beach. The cabin is not ours, sorry, darling boo. It’s Phoebe’s. We also own a little place in the hills on the Clackamas River, but we don’t call that the cabin, we call that the shack. Trust me, it’s the right name. We also have a condo down in Mexico…but could you call that owned, really? It’s on a hundred-year lease. And anyway, it’s in the family trust. Any old Crawford can go there.” He cleared his throat, clearly enjoying the moment. “And…I don’t know how you really feel about Europe, but Mom bought a pied-à-terre in Paris a year before she died. Even I just found out about it. I was thinking of giving it to Phoebe or selling it. I don’t know. It’s not paid off yet, which makes it kind of a burden. But it’s the only one not paid off.”

  “Paris?” Jane felt faint.

  “And while I was in Thailand for a year it made a lot of sense to buy a place there, up in the mountains. I was feeling impetuous and little places like that are pretty cheap, really. But yes, it was an expense I should have considered longer. It did take a bite out of my nest egg.”

  “Jake, you are…really, really rich.” Her head felt like it was floating above her body. All she could do was stare at him, her mouth slightly opened. She had known the Crawfords her whole life, but she hadn’t really known, hadn’t imagined. Couldn’t imagine a life where it “just made more sense” to buy a little place in Thailand.

  “We are, babe. Not just me. It’s all both of ours now. We have a fishing cabin in Alaska, too, but I just let a property management company handle that. People rent it and stuff. I don’t ever go there.”

  “Jake, this is getting ridiculous.” She pushed her plate away. “I feel a little sick.” Her stomach had flipped over, twice, but it was sick with excitement, like the feeling she had the night before Christmas every year of her childhood. It was good sick. It was guilty sick.

  “I never technically lied to you. I just sort of kept things hidden that I didn’t think you’d like.”

  Jane chewed her lip. How would they ever take care of all of this?

  “We can talk about the investment properties later.”

  “There are more?”

  “Yeah…Grandpa was a smart guy and picked up a lot of land in East Portland for cheap back in the fifties. It was a good move for the family. It may sound like you and I have a lot of, um, places, but you should see what Jeff has.”

  “If Jeff has so much of his own, why does he need to live in the Laurelhurst house?” Jane ran her hand through her ponytail, this time honestly trying to get a grip on how all of this worked. Money. Families. Those two things rarely went together well.

  Jake drummed his fingers on the table. “I know it’s a major disappointment not to get to live there, but honestly…I kind of think this is the way Grandpa would have liked it. He gave my parents a place to live—oh, that’s right. I forgot about that one. The Alameda house where I was born. It’s a little place. He liked his kids to start out small. Jeff is older. He’s running the company. And he already put in his time in a small place.”

  Jane held up both hands. “I surrender. You are very rich. All of my pull-myself-up-by-my-own-bootstraps drive is wasted in this relationship. I could never bring anything into this family.” She forced
a bright smile. It would be ridiculous, foolish even, to pretend that she hadn’t just won all of the lotteries ever. But it did kind of break her heart, a little. Of all the things she had ever wanted in her life, the number one was to prove to the world that she could make it without her parents’ money. Money that was nothing compared to Jake’s, well, hers, now.

  “That’s not true, sweetie. You’re an only child. There’s no one else to inherit your dad’s very smart investments.” Jake cleared his throat. “Your dad knows you pretty well and asked me to be the one to tell you.”

  “Tell me what?” Jane’s parents had spent the last five years trying to shower her with money, and she had held them at bay, except the car, a little tuition, apartment-moving expenses—oh, never mind. Any sense of independence she had ever had, had been false.

  “They put your grandma’s Mount Rainer house in your name and gave it to us as a wedding present.”

  Jane laughed—it started small, a little snort. Then shook her shoulders silently. She opened her mouth and the sound that came out made the patrons at the next table turn her way. “Are you kidding? I love that house.”

  “He said they never go anymore, and none of the other grandkids thought they could afford to maintain it. He told me he bought it from your grandma a few years ago.”

  “I don’t know about the other places, but the cabin on Rainier is the best. I love it so much.” Jane pulled herself together. “I think I’m going crazy. This is nuts, isn’t it? People don’t start out like this. Not at our age. Not people who want to give up everything they have to follow God around the world.”

  “It’s handy to have a place to stay anywhere God sends us…” He lifted both eyebrows endearingly.

  “Give the Paris place to Phoebe.” A pinch of regret tugged Jane’s heart. Paris! “If we ask nicely, she’ll probably let us stay there.”

  “How about a different one instead. That’s the only one with a payment still. Kind of a white elephant.”