Secret of the Painted Lady

by Christina A. Burke

  "Great!" He clapped his palms together and rubbed them vigorously. "I tried the door earlier, but it must have been closed. Are you doing food yet? I'm starved." He walked past me with what I could only describe as a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

  Jake looked at me, and it was my turn to shrug as we followed close behind.

  When the man got to the door, he turned around and smiled at me, waiting patiently for me to get my keys out of my bag. He towered over me. Well over six foot tall. And he smelled awesome. Like the sea, the outdoors, and Christmas spices, all rolled into one. Why was I even thinking about how he smelled, for heaven's sake, when he could be a potential psycho? What if we got him inside and he was really a mass murderer?

  I gulped as I slid the key in the lock on the front door, saying a silent message asking for protection from men with kissable dimples.

  Kissable dimples? Where the hell did that come from?

  I hadn't felt any attraction to a man for a long time—in fact, I made a point of not feeling anything, so where were these sudden, irrational thoughts coming from? I was going mad. Or I was ill. Delirious. It was the only explanation.

  I flipped on the lights in the entrance. "Come on in."

  "Thanks. I'm dying for a coffee. The wind's a bit fresh out there." He did a mock shiver.

  Jake followed him in, eyeing him suspiciously. "So, why don't you tell us what you were doing out on the edge then, sonny?"

  The man sat down in front of the bar on the stool Mr. Angry had used last night. Jake stood next to him, a safe enough distance away, presumably in case he decided to lash out unpredictably.

  "Looking at the sea." He shrugged.

  I switched the internal lights and coffee machine on, keeping one eye on Dimple Guy.

  "You didn't have to get so close to see the sea," I said warily. "You can see it sitting in our garden."

  "Yes, but I wanted to see the rocks beneath the cliff, too."

  "Any particular reason why?" I asked, keeping one eye on him as I measured out coffee granules.

  "I find that studying the rock formation helps."

  "Helps with what?" Jake frowned.

  "Determining any cliff collapses that might have happened over the years." He looked at us like we should already know this. Then he slapped a palm to his forehead. "Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself, have I?" He held out a hand to me to shake. "Harvey Wynters. I'm an underwater archaeologist."

  "An archaeologist?" I tentatively held out my hand and slid it in his. His palm was warm and slightly calloused. "So you really weren't…um…" My cheeks flushed. Uh-oh. I'd just accused a perfectly sane man of wanting to kill himself!

  He laughed again, and that dimple showed up. Definitely kissable. And now I was looking at his very full lips. Lips which you'd think would be too full for man, but in fact just made him look incredibly hot. I could imagine sucking on one and—

  "Are you OK?" his voice broke into my thoughts as he peered at me. "You're staring." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "Is there something on my face?"

  Crap!

  I dropped his hand like it was radioactive.

  "What's an underwater archaeologist doing in these parts?" Jake asked, saving me.

  "I'm searching for shipwrecks. Well, specifically one shipwreck called The Ocean's Revenge. I work at the Portsmouth Naval Museum in England, and I'm out here hoping to find the lost wreck. It traveled from Portsmouth to Danger Cove on the 18th June 1852, and it was supposed to have sunk just as it was unloading its cargo here. You know about the legends of Danger Cove, don't you?"

  Jake nodded and perched on a stool. "Yes, of course. All the locals know the legends about smugglers. The tavern here was even named after the lucrative smuggling trade."

  "Jake's family is one of the first settlers here, so he knows a lot more than I do. Bob's told me all about the smuggling legends, but I don't know much about the ins and outs of it," I said, frothing up a jug of milk with the steaming wand on the coffee machine.

  "Well, in the early 1800s, the U.S. Congress placed an embargo on importing English goods, and in order to bypass the embargo, smugglers shipped teas, food, opium, clothes, and medical supplies to the U.S. from England," Harvey said, his face lighting up with excitement. "Years later, it was also used again as a hub of smuggling activity to transport and distribute moonshine after the U.S. Congress passed the law prohibiting the sale of alcohol. The town was called Danger Cove because of the rock formations out at sea which made it dangerous to arrive by boat, and it took exceptional skill for the smugglers to land somewhere along this coast to load and unload their booty. According to my research, the smuggling vessels landed on the beach farther up the coast to unload their goods which were hidden in some tunnels inside the caves at the far end."

  "Yes. Two Mile Beach." Jake nodded.

  "That's it." Harvey propped one leg up on the bar stool and leaned forward. "The Ocean's Revenge was apparently unloading its smuggled cargo when a hurricane hit, and it sank."

  "Wow." I topped off two cappuccinos with frothy milk and chocolate sprinkles and set them in front of Jake and Harvey. "Sounds fascinating."

  "Oh, it is." Harvey took a sip of coffee and ended up wearing a foam moustache.

  "Er…you've got some…" I pointed to his lip. Of course, I could always lick it off for him.

  Down girl!

  "Ah." He wiped his lip with a finger and licked it. "Thanks."

  I had to look away.

  "You're not having one?" Harvey noticed my lack of coffee.

  "No. Never touch it."

  "I can't start my day without it." He took another sip and said, "I've been here a week already, and the museum has given me a two week deadline to find it or I have to go home empty-handed. Unfortunately, it's not cheap trying to find a wreck. I've been out with a research boat with some borrowed guys from Seattle Uni's Underwater Archaeology Department, checking out the seabed with sonar and doing exploratory dives around the caves and beach area, but so far I haven't found anything." Another sip. "So, anyway, that's why I was looking down at the sea and rocks below."

  "Well, I doubt you'll find much." Jake got off his stool. "The wreck is probably scattered miles over the sea bed by now, if it was even here to begin with. The tides and the rocks can be treacherous along these cliffs. It's only the harbor and Two Mile Beach that are safe for passage in and out by sea. But good luck with it."

  Harvey pursed his full lips together, seemingly deep in thought. "Well, thanks for the information, er…sorry, I don't know your name."

  "Jake. Jake Rafferty." He nodded to Harvey and turned to me. "I'll get your produce up in the next twenty minutes."

  I glanced at the clock. We still had an hour before we officially opened, and Charlie, the chef, would be coming in any time now along with his sole kitchen staff, Tara. "Thanks."

  I put Jake's coffee cup under the counter, ready to put in the dishwasher, feeling Harvey's eyes on me. I glanced up. Our gazes met, and I took in more about him. Wide shoulders underneath his casual pale blue linen shirt, narrow waist and muscular thighs though his khaki cargo pants. Messy, cropped hair that gave him a just-got-out-of-bed look. Tanned skin that spoke of summers outdoors. Warmth flooded through me, as if I was suddenly standing in a patch of sunlight.

  Yep. I was definitely coming down with something, which was weird. I was never ill.

  I picked up a menu and thrust it at him. "So, you said you were hungry? Sorry, we're not officially open for a while yet, but if you want to look at the menu while you wait, here you go!" My voice came out louder and more wobbly than usual. "I need to get prepped to open up."

  "No problems." He took the menu. Well, he had no choice, really, unless he wanted it to poke him in the eye. "What's good here?"

  Me?

  "Everything. Although our specialty is seafood, which is super healthy. Today's special will be Moroccan sea bass or cashew topped cod. The sweet potato wedges are awesome, too, and much healthier than reg
ular fries."

  "Wicked!" He leaned forward over the bar, studying the menu earnestly.

  Wicked? I was guessing that meant cool?

  I made a hasty exit through the back of the bar along the corridor towards Bob's office, needing a few minutes in private to take some calming breaths after all the excitement. My cheeks were hot, my forehead pricked with sweat. I walked along, fanning my face.

  When I walked past Bob's open office door, my eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

  Bob was lying on the floor just in front of the desk, face down. A big patch of blood was on the back of his head, seeping out along the wooden floorboards in a sticky pattern of red.

  Someone screamed, and it took a few seconds to realize it was me.

  "Oh, gosh! Bob! Can you hear me?" I kneeled down next to him. Was he still alive? "Bob?" I touched his shoulder. It felt cold and stiff. Uh-oh, not a good sign. "Bob? Bob?" I shook him. No response. Finally, I put two fingers to his neck to feel for a pulse.

  Nothing.

  "Are you OK? I heard screaming?" Harvey appeared in the doorway and stopped short when he saw Bob. "Oh, God. Is he…?"

  I glanced up, tears in my eyes. "Yes. He's dead."

  MURDER AND MAI TAIS

  A DANGER COVE COCKTAIL MYSTERY