A Fishy Dish (A Hooked & Cooked Cozy Mystery Series Book 3)

by Lyndsey Cole

  “Great.” Sean slung his backpack over his shoulder. “I spend most of my time inside anyway, reading my notes, writing, and editing. Maybe it was just bad timing. You know, that I ran into the Whites when I arrived.”

  Hannah couldn’t help but wonder what else Sean Payne had done to anger Matt White. That level of resentment didn’t happen from one question.

  Jack nudged Hannah. “You’ve got the key and he’s halfway up the path. Having a change of heart about him?”

  Hannah rolled her eyes. “If it was only that easy to rent only to people who didn’t say annoying things.” She jogged to catch up to Sean Payne and laughed when his full name registered—Payne or Pain? Sometimes names could be quite revealing.

  After Sean Payne—with a Y—was settled into Cottage Four, Hannah checked with Meg to see what she needed help with in the snack bar. Meg hustled around the small kitchen area between a big pot of clam chowder on the stove and a bowl filled with the ingredients for the lobster rolls: lobster meat, mayo, lemon juice, celery, parsley, and salt and pepper. A few customers sat outside on the picnic tables enjoying the ocean view while they waited for their orders.

  Meg slid a tray in Hannah’s direction. “Here are two fried fish platters for the two guys under the red umbrella. They also need a bottle of lemonade and iced tea. I’ll have the other order ready when you get back inside.”

  The smell of the fried fish platter wafted to Hannah’s nose, making her stomach growl. She’d help herself to some hand cut fries and a small piece of fish after the customers were served.

  “Such a tragedy,” she overheard one of the young men say to his friend as she approached their table. “Sally’s boyfriend was nothing but trouble and she was about to dump him.”

  “Are you going to the vigil?” Hannah asked.

  “Of course. Everyone will be there.”

  Hannah leaned on the table. “Do you know Sally well?”

  The first guy stuffed several fries into his mouth and nodded. “Yeah,” he answered after he swallowed. “We all went to school together.”

  Hannah glanced toward Cottage Two. “How about her parents? Did Sally get along with them?”

  The same young man shrugged his shoulders. “I know she recently had an argument with her dad. A bad one. About her boyfriend. Sally’s dad threatened to kick her out of the house but he was always saying stuff like that. I don’t think Sally believed he’d actually do it.”

  “What do you think happened to Sally?” Hannah leaned close. “Did she run away?”

  “Man, I hope that’s all that happened. She’s an awesome girl and she’s been working hard so she could afford her own place. I hope someone gets a lead on her whereabouts.”

  “Let’s hope so.” Hannah smiled at the two young men. She tapped the picnic table with her knuckle. “Enjoy your food,” she said before walking away.

  The second guy nodded enthusiastically. “Best fried fish platter in town.”

  That was what Hannah wanted to hear. So much for her worries about Mr. Gavin Abbott’s new seafood restaurant and his fancy new chef. As long as Meg kept up with the fantastic quality of her cooking, the locals would stay loyal to The Fishy Dish.

  At least, that was her hope.

  Besides, Gavin Abbott’s Chowder House could never compete with the location of her small snack bar right here on the beach. The sun, breeze, waves slapping on the beach, and the squawking of gulls as they swooped overhead, made her spot priceless.

  “Quit with all the chit chat,” Meg scolded when Hannah returned inside. “Or else you’d better get your sister, Ruby, over here to help out. That other table needs two bowls of clam chowder, two sparkling waters, and a small order of onion rings.”

  Hannah focused on keeping the customers—and Meg—happy while she thought about her competitor at The Chowder House and the missing girl, Sally White.

  Chapter 3

  Hannah watch as a peanut of a woman approached the open window of the snack bar.

  “Meg? Are you still working at this dive?” the silver haired woman asked.

  Meg turned around and her face wrinkled with a huge grin. “Samantha. What the heck are you doing here? You didn’t even show up after Caroline died.”

  Samantha leaned on the counter. “What’s the point of coming after she died? I’m kicking myself for waiting too freaking long and missing one last hurrah with the old gal.” She reflected quietly for several seconds before continuing. “So, I heard Caroline left this place to some young whipper snapper from California. I bet she doesn’t have a clue how to manage anything but her own fingernails, or some other equally useless talent.”

  Meg chuckled and pulled Hannah over to the window. “I guess you should meet her yourself and figure out what you think about Caroline’s decision.”

  Hannah stood stiffly, feeling like she was a piece of fish being inspected for one of her fried fish platters.

  Samantha’s mouth dropped open. “This is Caroline’s replacement?” Her voice contained complete shock. “I thought my meds were making me hallucinate and Caroline was standing here in front of me.” Samantha slapped the counter. “Well, I’ll be a tongue tied nit wit. If you look this much like Caroline, you can’t be a complete idiot.”

  Hannah couldn’t help but laugh. Finally. Samantha definitely didn’t filter her thoughts, much like Meg, but the spicy mix of words certainly weren’t hard to listen to. “I have been known to channel my Great Aunt’s spirit at times.”

  “Of course you would.” Samantha leaned forward laughing. “If I remember anything about dear old Caroline, she wouldn’t leave this world without a trace. You, my dear, seem to have received the great honor of carrying on Caroline’s work. And her good looks.” Samantha winked. “I hope you do them both justice.” Samantha waved her hand in a broad arc. “So, where’s my place? These cottages look cute enough on the outside.”

  Hannah’s eyes darted to the side to gauge Meg’s reaction. Meg leaned on the counter with her eyebrows raised and gave a shrug.

  “We’re booked. Did you make a reservation?”

  Samantha rolled her eyes. “Of course I did. I talked to Jack and he filled me in on a few things around here.” She made herself comfortable on one of the bar stools at the snack bar window, her elbows bent in front of her on the counter. “How about a cup of clam chowder, but only if it’s as good as Caroline’s. I don’t want any of that canned or frozen crapola some of these places try to trick you with.”

  “You can’t get anything better than what we serve here at The Fishy Dish,” Meg said. “I’m making it now.”

  “You’d better not say that loud enough for Caroline to hear or she’ll figure out a way to add a nasty ingredient to get even.”

  They both laughed.

  Hannah carried over a steamy bowl of chowder and a small packet of crackers.

  Samantha held up the crackers and studied them. “I never could figure out why these salty little hexagonal crackers got named oyster crackers. They certainly don’t taste like oysters.”

  She opened the packet and dumped them into the bowl. She dipped her spoon into the thick, creamy chowder, blew on it, and savored the taste with her head tilted back and her eyes closed. “Oh yeah, just how I remember clam chowder is supposed to taste—warm and rich, not fishy, but with a hint of the ocean.”

  Hannah waited for Samantha to open her eyes and return her focus to the two people she sat across from. “I’m so glad the chowder meets your approval.” She lowered her voice. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, but all the cottages are spoken for. Are you sure you made a reservation?” Hannah hoped that Samantha didn’t fly off the handle and make a scene about a possibly botched reservation. “One guest hasn’t arrived yet, but it’s a man who is listed for that one.”

  Samantha slurped the hot chowder off her spoon. “A Sam Stone?” she asked before enjoying another spoonful.

  Hannah nodded. “Yeah. You know him?”

  She tilted her bowl to get
the last bit at the bottom. “Sure do.” She pushed the bowl toward Hannah. “That hit the spot. Let’s go. Don’t worry about Mr. Stone. He and I have an understanding.”

  Hannah wasn’t sure what to make of this bossy woman who seemed to know more than she was saying.

  Samantha retrieved a big canvas bag from her car and joined Hannah in the office. Jack grinned like an old fool before he gave her a bear hug. “Glad to see you again, Sam. It’s been a long time”

  Hannah’s head jerked around. “Sam?”

  “Yup.” Samantha shoved glasses over her eyes and settled a dark blue, I-heart-Maine cap on her head. “Sam Stone. At your service.”

  Hannah’s mouth fell open. Samantha’s hat covered her short silver curls with only a few wisps peeking out around her ears. The round, tortoiseshell glasses perched on her nose transformed her face in a masculine direction. If she didn’t know better, Hannah would never have suspected that the face she was staring at belonged to a woman.

  “Close your mouth, Hannah. It’s not polite to stare,” Jack said. “Samantha made me promise not to reveal her little secret.”

  “I love to see people’s reactions.” She slapped her thigh. “It just kills me to be able to walk around as a man. You know, when I started out in the detective world, no one would give me the time of day until I showed up with my Sam Stone act.” She shrugged. “I like having my cake and eating it too, if you know what I mean.”

  Hannah was still tongue-tied. Her eyes blinked several times in succession but the image didn’t change. “Take off your hat and glasses.”

  Samantha obliged. “Voilà! It’s the real me again.”

  “Wow. That’s one incredible transformation. I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.” Hannah shook her head. “So, who are you while you’re staying in Cottage Three, and if you don’t mind me asking, what’s your job?”

  “Samantha Featherstone, of course. “I’ll keep Sam Stone hidden until I need his expertise.” She wagged her finger at Hannah and Jack. “And don’t blow my cover.

  “Not me,” Hannah promised.

  “My lips are sealed.” Jack zipped his lips closed.

  Samantha made herself comfy in the chair by the window with her legs crossed and her fingers tapping on the wooden arm. “As for the second part of your question, all I can say is that I came out of retirement to find Sally White. So, fill me in on what you know about her disappearance.”

  Hannah rested against the big old desk. She pulled on her long braid while she thought about what she’d heard. “Not much. Her parents are staying in the cottage next to this one. You’ll be next to them on the far side.”

  “Why are they staying here instead of their own home?” Samantha scrunched her brow.

  “All the media are camped out at their house. No one knows they’re here. Yet,” Jack explained.

  “Except that annoying writer staying in Cottage Four.” Hannah chewed on her thumbnail.

  “Don’t tell me it’s Sean Payne,” Samantha said with disgust lacing her tone.

  “Yeah, you know him?”

  Samantha stood up. “I’ve read his articles and heard he’s writing about missing kids. He’s not someone I have a relationship with for getting information. He’s a crafty one; likes to ask the questions and keep what he knows to himself. Definitely an odd guy. I don’t trust him as far as I can throw him.” She laughed. “And, even with this five foot two inches and a hundred and two pounds of fighting spirit, my throwing distance isn’t what it used to be, my dear.”

  Hannah decided she didn’t want to test Samantha’s fighting ability since she suspected it just might be a bit better than she let on. “How about you get settled into your cottage and we can discuss what we know later; after the snack bar closes for the day.” Hannah twirled the cottage key in her fingers, letting the seashell keychain swing back and forth. “If I don’t get back to help Meg, I’ll never hear the end of her complaining.”

  Samantha followed Hannah out the door. “It doesn’t sound like Meg has changed at all. But you won’t find a harder worker or more loyal employee than Meg. She and your Great Aunt Caroline were like this.”

  Hannah turned around to find Samantha’s fingers tightly entwined.

  “And she’s smart as a whip when it comes to knowing the people in this town. You’d better treat her right and keep her on your side, Hannah.”

  Once inside the cottage, Samantha threw her bag on the bed and looked around. She nodded her approval. “Nice. I like the fresh flowers. Caroline never added that kind of touch. Bare bones was her motto.” She sniffed the flowers. “Ahh, peonies, one of my favorites.”

  “Thanks. After you’re settled, how does a fish dinner sound?” Hannah asked.

  Samantha stuck out her lower lip. “I’m thinking I need to head into town. Look around. Listen to the chatter. You know, as myself.”

  “Actually,” Hannah said, “I need to check out the new seafood restaurant, The Chowder House. The owner seems to think his fried fish platter is better than what I’m serving at The Fishy Dish. I’m planning to head over to see if I have anything to worry about.”

  A grin crept across Samantha’s face. “Perfect. It sounds like you might have a bit of a sleuthing personality, too, my dear. I’d love to join you.”

  Hannah was surprised at how special that comment made her feel in Samantha’s eyes.

  Until she returned to the snack bar.

  Meg glared at her. “I can’t run this place by myself, you know, my dear,” she added sarcastically. “Look at the line. And that annoying guest staying in Cottage Four? What rock did he crawl out from underneath? He returned the clam chowder; said it was too hot. Does he think he’s Goldilocks and we’re running an Inn for the three bears?”

  Hannah sighed and tied a blue apron covered with red lobsters around her waist.

  She had to figure out how to get her sister Ruby back on board helping in the snack bar. But with Olivia finished with kindergarten and out of school for the summer, it was going to be a juggling act. Doable if Jack could keep an eye on the office and on Olivia. Maybe.

  Platters of fried fish, bowls of steamy clam chowder, and mountains of french fries flew through the snack bar window. By the time the lunch crowd was satisfied and the takeout orders were picked up, Hannah sat on one of the snack bar stools to enjoy half of a lobster roll and a few fries.

  “I expected you to have a fried fish platter,” Meg said with her eyebrows arched upwards.

  “I do have a craving for that but I’m treating all of you to The Chowder House fish platter tonight.” She wiped a drip of ketchup off her chin.

  “What?!” Meg’s eyes popped open wider than one of her crab cakes.

  “Samantha’s coming with us, too. We have to check out the competition.” She used a french fry to soak up the last of Meg’s homemade ketchup.

  “Oh.” Meg nodded. “Good plan.”

  “We’ll get this place organized for tomorrow and see what Mr. Gavin Abbott and his French chef have up their sleeves. I can’t imagine what they think they have that’s even close to our delicious fried fish platter. They were flying out of here today.” Hannah cocked her head. “Are you up for the challenge?”

  “Is that a joke? I’ll be ready in an hour.”

  Chapter 4

  Hannah and Samantha slid into the back bench seat of Meg’s puke-green pickup truck.

  “Ouch!” Hannah yelped.

  Meg glanced in the rearview mirror. “Did that spring get you?”

  “This truck is one backfire away from the car parts yard,” she answered as she slid off the pokey spring and rubbed her butt.

  “Quit your complaining. If you didn’t baby that ancient Volvo station wagon by barely driving it, you could chauffer us around,” Jack suggested from the front seat.

  “So,” Samantha balanced on the edge of the seat with her hands resting behind Jack’s head on the back of the passenger seat, “let’s move this conversation in a mo
re important direction. Who should I focus on to find out more about Sally White?”

  “Her father for starters,” Hannah said. “I’m not saying he had anything to do with Sally’s disappearance, but if you dig into his background, you might discover some other leads.”

  Meg looked in the rearview mirror at Samantha. “Didn’t your client give you some ideas about where to start looking?”

  “Oh sure, but I want to hear what the chit chat is that’s going around town,” Samantha replied.

  Meg turned her truck into the almost full parking lot of The Chowder House. “I agree with Hannah. Start with her dad.” With that comment, she stopped; her truck backfired, sputtered, and stalled.

  Meg cursed.

  Jack snickered.

  Hannah pressed her lips tightly together. She didn’t dare say, I told you so.

  Samantha sighed. “Why did I let you talk me into coming in this,” she paused, “heap?”

  “Don’t worry, we’ll hitch a ride from someone. Let’s go inside and see what Gavin is serving,” Jack responded. “My stomach is growling.”

  “Serving besides insults?” Hannah muttered, remembering her earlier conversation on the pier with the owner of The Chowder House.

  Samantha patted her back and leaned close to her ear. “We’re sleuthing, my dear. Don’t let this guy get under your skin.”

  The Chowder House was bustling. The hostess ushered them to a corner booth, handed out menus, and said Heather, their waitress, would be right with them before she hustled away to help the next customers waiting to be seated

  Samantha and Hannah sat with their backs to the wall. They both could easily see most of the other diners without too much craning of their necks.

  “We got the best seat in the house for people watching,” Samantha noted. Her eyes scanned the dining room.

  Meg picked up the drinks menu. “This is an impressive list, but I’ll stick with my favorite, a Sam Adams.” She twisted around to get a better view of the room. “Isn’t that Matt and Leah White over on the far side?” she whispered.