She didn’t know if it was the hand carved oak bookcases or the centuries old leather couches and chairs or the gigantic marble fireplace, but somehow, the room felt both awe inspiring and cozy at the same time.
The room also seemed spiritual somehow. Maybe because of all the old books and furniture that were once read and used by ancestors long dead, or maybe because it was so quiet—especially now when one else was home.
She settled herself in a patch of sun and closed her eyes, breathing slowly in through her nose and out through her mouth. Slowly in … and slowly out.
She cleared all thoughts from her mind. Every time a conscious thought tried to invade she dismissed it, promising her conscious mind she would deal with it later. Slowly, she counted backwards, clearing her mind of any thoughts that tugged at it, waiting for her subconscious to take over.
She could feel herself drift off … still conscious, but not really. It was almost as if she could go to some other land inside her mind. She was getting better at entering this special land the more she meditated. It was coming to her faster and faster. And now she was even hearing the voices.
At first she could only hear a few whispered words from her spirit guide, Andrew. But that gradually progressed to full conversations and the past few times she’d meditated she’d also talked to her grandmother. At first it had freaked her out a little, but now she was starting to look forward to her meditations and these little visits from the other side.
“Well, don’t you think you should be up in the attic looking for that book?”
Celeste jumped at her grandmother’s voice. She’d heard it before, of course, but this time instead of being inside her head, it sounded like it was right in the room beside her.
Celeste focused on thinking up a response in her head.
I’m not sure. My sisters don’t seem too keen on going up there.
“Nonsense, why not? There’s lots of neat family stuff up there. And, of course, the journals.”
Mom always told us to stay away, is it okay with her?
“How would I know?”
Isn’t she there with you?
“No.”
Celeste felt her brows knit together. Her mother had died four years ago, if she wasn’t “over there” with Nana, then where was she? She found herself wishing she could see her grandmother and not just hear her disembodied voice in her thoughts.
“Well, why don’t you just open your eyes if you want to see me?”
Celeste’s heart skipped a beat. See her?
She tentatively cracked open one eyelid. She didn’t see her Nana. She did see Belladonna, though. The cat was over by the window swatting at the haze that drifted in from the late afternoon sun. No, wait, it was more of a mist … and the mist was bending down to pet the cat.
Celeste opened her other eye and watched open-mouthed as the cat rolled over on her back, the mist taking the shape of a human, bending over, its arm extended toward the cat and rubbing her belly.
The mist stood up and turned to her. “See dear, you can see me and hear me.”
Celeste squinted. The figure was fuzzy, but she could just make out some of her grandmother’s features. Her eyeglasses, and her hair in a bun on top of her head. She was even wearing an apron that Celeste remembered from her childhood, or at least that she’d seen Nana wearing in pictures.
Celeste stared at the apparition, speechless.
“What’s a matter, cat got your tongue?” Nana laughed and Belladonna let out a meow.
Celeste wondered if she’d fallen asleep and was dreaming.
The misty figure looked at its watch. “Well, I’ve gotta run, but I wanted to put a bee in your bonnet about the attic. There’s important stuff up there you girls are going to need.”
“Okay,” Celeste stammered.
“Well, then, ta-ta.” Nana bent to scratch Belladonna behind the ears and then vanished in a misty swirl.
Celeste sat still for a few minutes, her heart pounding against her ribs. Did that really just happen?
Belladonna came over and rubbed herself against Celeste’s legs. She scratched the cat’s head in return.
“Mew.” Belladonna flopped down on her side and aimed her ice-blue eyes at Celeste then flicked them up towards the ceiling … where the attic was.
She heard the front door open and glanced at the green onyx art deco clock on the mantel. It was five thirty, which meant it must be Morgan and Fiona coming home.
Celeste took a deep breath and stood up on shaky legs. All indications pointed toward the attic and if that’s where the powers that be wanted her to go, then who was she to argue?
She just hoped she would have as easy a time convincing her sisters of that as her grandmother’d had convincing her.
###
Morgan shut the front door and proceeded down the hall toward the kitchen, her heart skittering when she saw a pale and shaken Celeste coming out of the library.
“What’s the matter? You look like you’ve seen a ghost?” Morgan wrinkled her brow in concern as she studied her sister’s face.
“Oh.” Celeste ran her fingers through her perky blonde hair. “Sorry, I was napping and I’m still half asleep, I guess.”
Morgan put her arm around Celeste’s shoulders and led her into the kitchen. “Come on. We’ll make some supper and tell you all about our visit from Overton.”
“Sheriff Overton? Oh no. Is he going to arrest one of us or something?”
“I’m sure he’d like to but, fortunately, he doesn’t have any evidence. He did, however, let it slip that he found something very interesting on the dead guy.”
The girls stepped into the spacious black and white tiled kitchen. The kitchen itself had been built during one of the many home renovations in the 1800s and still had the original dark wood cabinets which were offset by white marble counter tops. The stainless steel appliances were a newer addition to the kitchen as was the large island in the center.
The smell of shrimp, garlic and fresh herbs hit Morgan’s nose, causing her mouth to water. Fiona turned from the stove and looked at them as they each took a seat at the island.
“So, what’s this interesting thing that Overton told you about?” Celeste reminded Morgan.
“You won’t believe it.” Morgan felt her heart speed up with a flitter of excitement despite the logical part of her brain telling her this all had nothing to do with pirate treasure. “Overton said the guy had a copy of some sort of ship’s manifest that one of our relatives was the captain of in his pocket!”
“What?” Celeste’s eyes widened as she divided her attention between Morgan and Fiona.
“Yep,” Fiona said, swirling the shrimp in the pan “Jake’s going to see if he can snag a copy of it and bring it over for us to look at.”
“So what does that mean, the guy really was looking for treasure?” Celeste asked.
“Maybe.” Morgan got up and grabbed a large bowl of salad from the fridge, placing it on the island. “That doesn’t mean there really is treasure, though.”
“It will be kind of cool to see what sorts of things were on the ship of our great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather though.” Fiona poured the shrimp concoction over a bowl of pasta, tossed it together and set it on the island next to the salad.
“Are you sure that’s enough ‘greats’?” Morgan asked, grabbing plates from the cupboard.
Fiona laughed, waving her hand in the air. “Well, who knows how many, I know there’s a lot. The guy lived over three hundred years ago.”
Morgan filled her plate and sat at the island beside her sisters. She had a forkful of food halfway to her mouth when a knock sounded on the front door.
Fiona jumped up. “That must be Jake.”
“I’m sure it is. He has an uncanny way of showing up just when the food is ready to eat,” Morgan said good-naturedly. The truth was she adored Jake as did all the sisters.
Fiona ran off to open the door and Morgan used the opportunity to dig into
her supper. She was almost done by the time Fiona ushered Jake into the kitchen.
“Did you get a copy?” Morgan asked, handing a plate to Jake.
“Yeah, I got one of the other cops to sneak me one. Overton is keeping me far away from the case. Putting me on crap jobs like traffic detail.” Jake made a face as he dug in his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
He opened it and spread it on the island. The three girls bent their heads over the paper to examine it.
“This is pretty cool,” Celeste said. “The Ocean’s Revenge … I never heard of it but I like the name. Kind of sinister for a merchant ship though, don’t you think?”
Morgan looked at the paper. The copy was blurry, the writing faint. She could see the original manifest itself had rough edges and many folds and creases. At the top was the date, ship’s name and captain’s name—Isaiah Blackmoore—below that columns with lists of items and numbers.
She ran her finger down the left column and read off the items. “Pottery, cowhide, turtle shell, cacao … who knew they shipped this stuff around the world back then?”
“And who would care about recovering it now?” Celeste asked.
“Maybe not that stuff, but look at the bottom,” Jake said between mouthfuls of shrimp.
Morgan skipped down to the bottom of the page and her heart jerked in her chest. “Gold and silver coins, copper ingots, silver bars …” she looked up at her sisters. “Now that’s worth recovering.”
Fiona raised her brows. “For sure. But that was the stuff on his ship. It’s not like he brought it home and buried it in the yard. He had to deliver that stuff to where ever it was supposed to go, didn’t he?”
Morgan nodded. “And we don’t even know if this is really an authentic ship’s manifest.”
“But it does give us a lead as to why the guy was on our cliff,” Celeste said.
Morgan pursed her lips. “True, but not why he was killed.”
“Do we even need to know that? I say it can’t hurt to do a little treasure hunting ourselves. I mean, that guy certainly went to a lot of trouble to get killed on our cliff, maybe there is something to this whole buried treasure thing?” Fiona tore a piece of bread from the loaf on the table and used it to sop up what was left on her plate.
Jake looked up at them. “You might have to figure out why he was killed … or at least who killed him. Overton is all fired up about the manifest linking the dead guy to your family. I eavesdropped on one of his conversations and he was talking about getting a search warrant.”
Morgan’s stomach clenched. Someone had planted evidence in their yard to try to frame her for Prudence Littlefield’s murder earlier in the summer and she suspected it was Overton.
“If he gets a search warrant, who knows what kind of evidence he might plant. We can’t let that happen.”
Jake nodded. “You guys need to be careful, though. If that guy got killed looking for the treasure, it might be dangerous for you to look for it, not to mention how dangerous it would be to try to track down his killer.”
Morgan’s heart skipped a beat and she glanced over at Celeste, the memory of the guys who tried to grab them earlier that morning fresh in her head.
Celeste tapped her finger to her lips. “Either someone thinks this supposed treasure is worth killing over, or someone had a beef with this guy and just happened to kill him in our yard.”
“Either way, I think we need to find out more about these treasure hunters. Maybe we can get Jolene to do some research online,” Morgan said.
“I think we need to find out more about the Ocean’s Revenge. If we can get a clue as to why this guy was interested in the ship we might uncover a motive for someone wanting to kill him,” Celeste offered.
“And a motive could lead us to the killer,” Jake added. “But be forewarned, you might find out your relative wasn’t the honorable merchant you have been lead to believe.”
The girls exchanged a look. Was it possible their relative was some sort of pirate?
“I think I know one way we can find out,” Celeste said, glancing up at the ceiling toward the attic.
Morgan’s stomach fluttered nervously as she followed Celeste’s gaze. She never liked going up in the attic, but Celeste was right. If there were secrets to be uncovered about their ancestors, the attic was the place to find them.
Chapter Eight
“I say there’s no time like the present,” Fiona said, as she loaded the last of the dinner dishes into the dishwasher.
“To go in the attic?” Celeste asked.
“Why are you going in the attic?” Jolene appeared in the pantry doorway.
“Oh, there you are,” Fiona said. “We just finished eating, are you hungry?”
“No, I ate at the restaurant.”
Recently graduated from high school, Jolene had a summer job at Barnacle Bill’s, a local restaurant, until she figured out what she wanted to do with her life. The side benefit was that she was fed well and often surprised them with some great take out.
“What’s this about going in the attic?” She persisted.
Fiona glanced at Morgan. The two oldest sisters were used to sheltering Jolene from anything unpleasant, but Morgan figured Jolene was all grown up now and, if they wanted her to act like an adult, they should treat her like one. She nodded her head.
“We’ve got some more information on the dead guy Morgan found,” Fiona said, then filled Jolene in about the pirate treasure hunters and the ship’s manifest.
“We were hoping you could do some research online about these treasure hunter guys,” Morgan added.
“Of course, whatever you guys need, just ask.”
Celeste stood up, and started over toward the back stairs that led to the attic. “I’m heading up … who’s coming?”
“Meoooow!” Belladonna streaked by her and ran up the stairs in a flash of white causing everyone in the room to laugh.
“Well, I guess one of us is excited,” Morgan said as she followed behind Celeste.
The stairs, originally built for servants to travel from their quarters to the other floors without using the main staircase, were narrow. They ascended in single file amidst the groaning and creaking of the centuries old wood.
At each floor, the stairway opened up into a hallway for access—they went up four flights, each one seeming ten degrees warmer than the last.
By the time they got to the top, Morgan was breathing heavy. She bent over and put her hands on her knees. Sweat drenched her tee-shirt.
“Sheesh Celeste, you must be in good shape—you aren’t winded at all,” she said sucking in a deep breath and flapping the bottom of her shirt to let some air in.
Celeste smiled at her and Morgan smiled back despite the butterflies that were swarming in her stomach. The attic always made her feel this way. All that old stuff piled up with God knows what hiding behind it creeped her out.
Morgan looked around. It was dark out and the lighting in the attic wasn’t that great—which made it even creepier. She suddenly had an image of them in old fashioned dresses, carrying torches and lanterns to light the way. She was glad they didn’t have to resort to use torches … even though the image seemed quite real for a split second.
“Where was the book? Do you remember?”
Jake, Fiona and Jolene had caught up to them and the five of them stood in the doorway squinting into the attic. The space was immense, taking up the whole fourth floor and consisted of a main room with alcoves and other rooms beyond it. The stairs dumped them out into the main room which ran the width of the house and was just about as long as it was wide.
“It looks different up here now. Because there’s not as much light, I suppose.” Fiona stood on her tiptoes and swiveled her head around. “I think it was in that direction … over by the window.”
They picked their way through the various piles toward the window. The attic was crammed full of old furniture, trunks, rugs and boxes. Morgan could tell they were on the rig
ht path as she recognized some of the boxes they had opened on their trip up there earlier in the summer.
“That’s it!” Celeste pointed to a bookcase near one of the dormer windows. Morgan wasn’t surprised to find Belladonna sleeping right on top of it. The cat opened one eye lazily then closed it again.
Celeste carefully took the thick leather bound book out of the shelf and set it on a nearby table. She opened the cover, gently lifting the first page. Morgan held her breath, afraid the old paper might disintegrate into dust with each touch.
They gathered behind Celeste, peeking over her shoulder as she turned the yellowed pages.
“That looks like gibberish,” Fiona said.
Morgan leaned closer, her brows creasing together, and tried to make sense of the writing. It had clearly been done with some sort of quill or fountain pen. The ink had faded almost to nothing and there were swirly flourishes and splotches that made it hard to make out the words.
“Can you understand any of this? The words are so strange.”
“Well, they did have different words and spellings back then … but this seems like the words don’t go together.” Celeste leaned even closer.
“I think it might be some sort of code,” Jolene said.
Everyone turned to her. “Code?”
“Yeah, you know like a secret message where you use code words and then have a key that tells you what the words mean.”
Morgan felt her stomach sink. “Well, how the heck are we going to figure that out?”
“Maybe the key is around here somewhere.” Fiona started poking in the bookcase. “Would it be a paper, or something else?”
“There could be a piece of paper that tells you how to decode it, but it’s probably a code that he knew by heart, I doubt you would find anything here that’s going to help you break the code,” Jolene said.
Morgan felt her shoulder slump. “So we’ll never know what it says?”
“There’s some well-known codes that have been used for ages. You know, like replacing the letters of the alphabet with a number and so on. There were many ways people used to encode writing. We should find out some of the most common methods and see if they work on this book,” Jake offered.
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