Plaid and Fore! and Murder

by Patti Larsen

  I suppressed a little thrill of excitement while Dad caught my eye and scowled like he knew what I’d been asking her about. Whatever. He’d been cutting me out long enough and it was time I got answers about the old case he’d done his best to keep me from uncovering.

  I just hoped if my father had blocked my fiancé’s inquiries about the missing woman I shared a name with, going around Crew to Liz wouldn’t get me into hot water with the man I loved.

  ***

  Chapter Three

  I watched Liz leave with a quick hug for Crew, avoiding my father’s sharp looks and, instead, drifting to join Daisy at the counter where she and Mom chatted with little giggles punctuating their conversation. When they fell quiet at my arrival I sighed and eye rolled, knowing they had to be planning something naughty or wicked or having to do with the wedding but instead of giving them a hard time I let my bestie bat her long lashes in my direction and hugged my mother tight.

  “You two,” I said. “Thank you.” I hadn’t expected to get choked up, but it happened, cutting off my ability to even go further with my gratitude, something that then triggered tears for Daisy and a trembling smile from Mom. We’d been working so closely together, the three of us, with hiccups, yes, but we’d come through the other side of Rosebert and the loss of Daisy’s estranged father, not to mention Mom’s crippling self-doubt and my own close encounters with death, destruction and murder. Standing here, I realized, with these two amazing women at my side, I had everything I needed under this one small roof—the man I loved, my adoring and adorable parents, my best friend and the stinky pug who panted her continuing joy at just being able to snack on crumbs while warming my foot with her butt.

  I had a blessed life.

  Dad joined us before Crew slipped between me and Daisy, his hand taking mine, one arm going around my bestie’s shoulders before he planted a firm kiss on her temple, making her blush. He let her go, doing the same to Mom, my red-haired mother giggling and kissing him back. When Crew made a move on Dad with a laugh, my father held him off with raised hands and a chuckle of his own, before grabbing my love and embracing him with a heavy thump to his back.

  “You’ll take care of her,” Dad said, a statement, not a question, and was that more gravel in his voice than usual? What, my stoic father suddenly sentimental?

  Crew just nodded before tucking his right hand into his jeans pocket and slipping his left arm around my waist, not speaking. Seriously, were they both on the edge of their own tears all of a sudden? I hugged my fiancé, the flash of the ring catching my attention, while Mom leaned into Dad with a happy sigh, looking up at him as I imagined I looked up at Crew and hoped I was still that much in love with him when we were married as long as they were.

  “Home, John,” she said. “Time for us to go.”

  More hugs, more moments of tight throats and smiles through emotion I wasn’t expecting. After all, we’d been engaged for months, right? And it wasn’t as if I was going anywhere, or Crew. We weren’t even married yet. Why then was there such a wave of feelings crashing this party?

  Mom and Dad left, waving as they went, side-by-side down the walk toward Dad’s truck parked on the street. I almost giggled, wondering if Robert had tried to ticket my father’s pickup. The parking laws in Reading had grown increasingly tight and, to be honest, militant in the last two years and my annoying cousin had taken it upon himself to appoint his own position as the King of Parking Violations. Since he wasn’t much of a cop to begin with, I guess it suited him. I know he’d targeted Dad many times in the last year or so—spiteful, who, Robert?—but my father always seemed to come out on top, mainly, I think, because he had Olivia in his back pocket. I watched Dad flip a piece of paper from his windshield and carry it carefully to the corner where an ornate garbage can waited, cheerfully dumping it into the trash before joining Mom in the cab and driving away.

  Crew’s laugh out loud told me he wasn’t going to argue with my father’s actions any more than Robert would succeed in making the ticket stick. Ah, the games we played to keep ourselves amused when no one died in the cutest town in America…

  I turned back to find Daisy had donned her light jacket, the evening a bit cool yet despite the fact it was June. Crew stopped her before she could exit, though, winking at both of us.

  “Hang on a minute, if you don’t mind,” he said, gesturing for us to join him in the living room. She and Mom had been efficient in the cleanup to the point you wouldn’t have known there was a party here only a little while ago. So, instead of having to putter around putting things right I collapsed with a happy sigh on the sofa, Petunia hopping up next to me, Daisy perching on the edge of the coffee table near my knees while Crew joined us. He slipped a large yellow envelope out of the pull-out drawer and held it out. “Treasure updates.”

  I let Daisy take it, open it, quivering in excitement at the prospect. “Are these the photos from the yacht club?” I leaned in, my bestie turning the 8X10’s Crew had printed so we could look at them together while my fiancé nodded.

  “I had them printed out of state,” he said, “when I went to Massachusetts for that symposium.” He’d been gone the previous weekend and I’d missed him despite being super busy, wished I could have joined him. Shared his hotel room… Distracted much?

  “Sounds a bit like overkill,” I grinned at him, teasing more than anything.

  “Well,” he said, “we could have had them done at the local photo shop and had everyone in Reading asking what it was and why we wanted the images.”

  I patted his knee, knowing he was teasing me right back. “Paranoid.”

  “You know nosy,” he winked.

  Daisy laughed. “You two sound like an old married couple already.”

  Maybe to some that might have been an insult but Crew and I just beamed at each other. Because in all honesty? Being an old married couple sounded about as close to heaven as I’d ever been.

  I finally shook off my lingering feels and took the images from Daisy, examining the photos he’d snapped under the water near the dock in Cutter Lake. I’d only seen the compass etched into the rocks by accident, the first time when Robert kicked Petunia over the edge and I’d had to dive to save her and the second time when I, myself, almost drowned thanks to Doreen Douglas and her attempt to murder me to protect herself from prosecution in the death of Lester Patterson.

  It had taken this long for us to find a good reason for Crew to dive and get photos taken, all out of his concern showing interest might have created curiosity about the treasure. When the club decided to replace the dock, Crew had volunteered to do the survey, the only person in Reading with a commercial diving certification. Fortunately for us they’d changed their minds when the quote came back far higher than expected, which meant not only did we have these images but the dock would remain as it was for, hopefully, long enough we’d have a chance to track down the treasure.

  It was murky, but clear enough to identify the compass etched in the stone as the same one Crew wore on his wrist, and the identical one to the scraps we’d seen from the bits of map that had come into our possession.

  “This is it,” Crew said, grinning at both of us where he perched on the arm of the sofa, elbows on his knees. “Look at where the North arrow points.”

  I shook my head, leafing through the photos. “I don’t get it,” I said. Daisy seemed equally as baffled and, suddenly, uncomfortable, cheeks heating while she hugged herself and looked away. Giving me an equally disquieting thought, one I’d pondered but hoped wasn’t true, as Crew spoke again.

  “North, sweetheart,” he said, “is the other way.”

  Wait, what? I looked at the image and finally nodded. He was right. The compass wasn’t pointing where it was labeled but in the opposite direction. “What does that mean?”

  “That the treasure is south.” Crew sat back with a big grin. “Across the lake somewhere.” He suddenly seemed less sure of himself, but still tickled.

  Didn’t feel rig
ht to me, though. “Or,” I said, pondering as I considered all of the clues we’d encountered so far, “that the opposite of what we know is the truth.” Huh. My brain sometimes.

  Crew looked startled, then thoughtful. “Clever,” he said.

  “Thing is,” I handed him the photos as he poured over them again like he hadn’t seen them before, “if I hadn’t dived—and then fallen—into the water, we would never have found this clue in the first place.”

  “Maybe it’s further down the chain,” Crew said. “Or Iris had no idea about it in the first place. This might have been left behind by Reading himself.” The privateer captain who’d founded this town along with his cabin boy, Joseph Patterson, was as enigmatic as he was a bit of a laughing stock at present thanks to the statue of him in the town’s square, a monument more often than not graced with a phallic symbol or two by some unknown artist hell-bent on ridiculing the memorial.

  “Whatever the case,” I said, “it’s a clue and it’s great to finally add it to the collection.”

  “I’m sure it fits in,” Crew said, almost fretting now. “I just don’t know where. Well, we have time to sort it out. It’s just us, after all.” He made a face, almost embarrassed, chuckling. “Sorry about the whole clandestine next state over photo adventure. It’s not like anyone else is looking since those treasure hunters debunked the idea.” I remembered Olivia’s disappointment, how she’d invested so much time and effort into the Captain Reading branding. If only she knew…

  Daisy made a noise, a choking, nervous sound that made me sigh.

  “Day,” I said, voice low and doing my best not to feel disappointed despite knowing what she was about to say. “It’s okay. Just tell us.”

  She met my eyes, her gray ones huge, while Crew waited, photos limp in his hands but zero judgment on his face, either.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, head hanging now. “It’s not just us. I told Rose everything.”

  ***

  Chapter Four

  Okay, so now it was out in the open and I actually felt relief knowing either way. Crew just nodded, shrugged while Daisy looked back and forth between us as if our lack of response was the last thing she expected. And deserved. I could tell by the tightening around her eyes, the slumped way she retreated emotionally she was doing a better job beating herself up over spilling the hoard beans than either of us could have managed in a million years.

  “Daisy, it’s fine,” I said reaching out to squeeze her hand. “I figured as much, honest. But Rose doesn’t have any of the clues as hard evidence.” All of what we’d collected lived in the music box my grandmother left me, including the scrap of map Crew had carried around in his wallet, a gift from his departed father. “Seriously, we’ve barely made any progress after two years.” Okay, so I hadn’t actually been hardcore searching, but it was three years since I’d moved back to Reading, since I’d uncovered the metal box in the back yard, and two and a half since the February I’d retrieved the music box from the bank. That made it two long years since I’d figured out how to open the gift Grandmother Iris left me (with Daisy’s help no less) and found the map piece and gold doubloon, confirming that the Reading hoard was a real possibility.

  She stood abruptly, reaching for her coat, heading for the door before even putting it on. She left without a word while I struggled with the need to go after her despite knowing there was nothing I could say to help her. Guilt was a singular emotion, one that could only be dealt with on a personal basis.

  Not like I knew that from personal experience or anything.

  I watched her go, floundering for a way to make things right, while Crew joined me on the couch, hugging me and resting his cheek on my hair. “I’m worried about her.” Daisy’s usual sparkle came and went, had for some time now. The cheerful, happy-go-lucky woman I knew hadn’t changed a bit from the equally cheerful and happy-go-lucky teenager I’d left behind. In fact, Daisy’s constant was something I’d been delighted to return to. But with the introduction of Rose to her life on a more consistent basis, not to mention the loss of her estranged father that impacted her far more deeply than maybe it should have for a man who hadn’t been a part of her life for the bulk of her existence, I’d watched Daisy struggle with her sense of self-worth and confidence, despite the fact she was easily one of the most amazing people I knew.

  If only I could convince her of that.

  “Daisy has to find her own way,” Crew said, voice soft, low, compassion-filled, but without the depth of concern I felt.

  “I know,” I said. “I figured her and Rose being on the outs would perk her up, but she’s still listening to what that nasty piece of work thinks.” Even if it was just repeating old hurts her half-sister’s voice said in her head.

  Yup, experience with that kind of behavior, too, thanks.

  Crew knew better than to try to placate me, though he did a great distraction job, kissing me gently, then with a bit more insistence, just enough to make my mind wander away from concern and return me to that blissful experience that was being the sole center of Crew Turner’s delightful attention.

  I left shortly after, Petunia on her lead, though I would have loved to stay, my following morning early enough to make me groan when I thought about it. I walked home in the cool but beautiful evening with my pug protesting her forced march, turning down his offer of a drive with one last kiss and a sigh past his parted lips.

  If he took me home I’d be a lot longer before I made it to bed.

  Instead, I let my feet carry me, using the exercise to cut down on the surging hormones demanding more of me than I could give right now. Not that Crew and I were angels, by any means. I wasn’t innocent enough to have passed on finding out what I was getting myself into after our wedding. But I also had to ensure regular sleep with the busy summer ahead, which meant my own apartment, my own bed and less waking up beside gorgeous blue eyes than I would have liked.

  “We should have just stayed, shouldn’t we?” I made a face at the pug who panted up at me like that was the best idea she’d heard all night before she groaned, snorted and carried on.

  When the familiar convertible, its top up to protect the driver from the evening air, passed me on the way out of town, I took note. Weird for Vivian French to be out and about this late, wasn’t it? Especially when she seemed to be heading, if the turn she took at the end of the street was any indication, to the opposite side of town than her own palatial mansion. I watched her go, my gaze then turning slowly in the direction she drove, losing sight of her tail lights, but continuing on as if of their own accord across the lake toward the other mountain.

  Where the Patterson mansion stood.

  I had no proof that was her final destination. But I had my suspicions. And that led me to a sharp change in mood for lack of knowing.

  Vivian’s late night drive pushed to one side, I could feel my shoulders tightening, a faint ache starting behind my eyes as I let myself unwind from the sheer joy of tonight and return to the reality of my life as I forced my steps onward. I wasn’t complaining, not even a little bit. And yet, the pressure of just how busy I’d become—Petunia’s, the annex, helping Mom in her catering business, Daisy’s special events bookings, not to mention all the mysteries I juggled in the back of my mind that took up more mental energy than I really had to spend—weighed on me. I was about to start a new life with the man I loved and I couldn’t even wrangle the night of our renewed engagement to spend at his house because I had an early day?

  What was it going to be like when we were married?

  I was grumpy by the time I arrived home, my pug huffing her unhappiness at being forced to walk all the way. I took pity on her, carrying her up the stairs and into the foyer, setting her down and unclipping her harness while I pondered how busy my life had become. And wondered just how practical this pace I was keeping really was. I watched the pug huff her way to the kitchen in search of treats, no doubt, shouldering her way an opening, the swinging kitchen door squeakin
g faintly as she did. That reminded me I had some small repairs I needed to get to but hadn’t had time to tackle. The list of get it done only grew, it seemed, never shrank.

  Wow, was I really feeling resentful about my business being so successful? Yes, I guess I was. I followed Petunia out into the kitchen and let her make her way through her doggy door into the yard, waiting for her to finish her business, staring at the lights in the carriage house, the fully lit annex. I caught myself hoping no one showed, that I wouldn’t run into any guests or my staff before I snuck downstairs for the night. Was starting to hate people par for the course for this particular lifestyle? And, if so, did that mean it was time to start thinking about something else?

  Huh. I’d never even considered something else. Surprise hit like a freight train and I felt my heart catch, thud once, return to normal beating while I inhaled past the surge of emotion. Grandmother Iris left me a legacy and I’d chosen to dive in head first, backed Olivia’s play to build tourism here in Reading, even opened the annex to resounding success. All with the expectation I’d be running this business for the rest of my working life.

  But was that really what I wanted? I turned in a slow circle and looked up at Petunia’s, the old house towering over me, the lights from guest’s rooms shining over me while I asked myself the hard question—was I almost done after only three years?

  And, if so, what was I going to do about it?

  Petunia whined at me, pawing at my leg, done and ready to go inside while my mind drifted and I ignored her. I bent and scooped her into my arms, carrying her cradled against me back to the house and down to our apartment, a mix of feelings weighing on me as I tried to sort out how I felt about the line of thought I’d been walking.

  When the phone rang, I answered it absently, but the moment I said, “Hello?” the other end went dead. I checked the number on the call display, recognized it instantly and had a new kind of emotional surge while I quickly redialed Siobhan Doyle.