I clenched my fists and turned back toward the lake. “Why do you suppose Bohemian Lake is so active tonight?”
“One kid riding home from a friend’s on an ATV is hardly active.”
“No, it’s not just one. There was a lot of activity in the woods earlier and since when is it common for boats to be out in the middle of the night?”
I jumped as Ben answered from directly behind my left shoulder. “There’s a boat out there? Where?”
“Not anymore, but there was a little while ago. What do you think they were up to? You can’t fish without lights and the mosquitos would be awful.”
“Lots of people fish at night for catfish.”
“This lake isn’t known for catfish.”
Ben shrugged.
“So, this just happens all the time now, huh? People just come to Bohemian Lake on a week night and fish and drive their four-wheelers in the woods at all hours of the night.”
“Wait a minute. You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
“Investigative journalist Penelope Trubble hasn’t heard about the article-rating Caravan Manor? You’ve got to be joking. You suck at your job, girl.” Ben laughed in his usual mean-spirited way. “Didn’t you say you worked for a national travel magazine?”
I gave Ben a look. “There is more than just one travel magazine, funny guy. They don’t all ask me for approval before they go to print and I certainly don’t broadcast where I’m from.”
“Whatever you say, P.I Trubble.”
I shot him a venomous look and placed my hands behind my back so I wouldn’t be tempted to use them on him.
He smirked. “There’s a contest happening this weekend. I figured that’s why you were here. You really didn’t know that the article touched on the original 1913 Liberty Head nickel or that the town council planted a fake?”
The missing 1913 Liberty Head nickel–Bohemian Lake’s claim to fame. I’d almost forgotten. Local legend had it that in the summer of ’62 a wealthy guest of the Manor had gone out on a boat with a rare nickel and fallen overboard. She was pulled from the water, but the million-dollar coin was never found.
“They’re offering ten thousand dollars to whoever finds it by Monday.”
Dad hadn’t mentioned anything about a contest on the phone, but that was probably why he had needed my help so suddenly.
“Time to prove your worth, huh?” He turned and started to head back inside the cabin. “If you’re going to be the star reporter of Bohemian Lake, then you best not be scooped.” He paused to snicker. “Again.”
I inhaled deeply and followed him. One well-placed front kick to the groin and he’d be crying like a little… nope… don’t even envision it. “Has the contest already started?”
His eyes traveled around the room, annoyed or distracted, or both. Then he settled on the plaid jacket he’d left in a crumpled pile inside the front door, next to a flashlight. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “Technically, it’s Thursday morning, so I guess the contest starts tomorrow.” I watched Ben shove more wheat thins in his mouth and toss the box aside.
“Is that empty?” I said, bending over to retrieve it. Deep breath. I broke the box down and placed it in the recycling. This wake-up call had been trying my patience but at least it was enlightening. It was just unfortunate I had to get my info from a guy who ate his snacks like a two-year-old. “So, how’d you hear about the contest? Is that why you’re back in town?” I asked, might as well see what else I could find out. I couldn’t see Ben perusing a magazine that didn’t feature naked women.
Ben took a chug from the can of beer and burped. “Nope, and word gets around.”
“Word, huh? So, one of the Patones then?” The Patones ran the heart of Bohemian’s gossip central. They also ran this town.
He finished his beer and crushed the can in his fist, then dropped it to the ground with a clatter. His voice was a growl. “Mind your business, Trubble.”
He brushed past me quickly, flashlight in hand. His elbow connected with my side in a sharp whack, and I couldn’t tell if it was intentional. At the door, he turned and gave me a long, hard stare, his dark brown eyes staring down my green. Maybe he thought I would turn to stone.
And then the screen door slapped closed, and I stood alone with an empty protein bar wrapper and a floor full of crumbs.
I let my black lab Guinness in before I cleaned off the counter and took a seat on the couch. She’d taken off earlier tonight, most likely because of the commotion on the lake, but she was curled at my feet now and ready to defend me. I could see directly outside and pulled my knit blanket down over the top of me, not relaxing until I saw Ben’s silhouette disappear all the way down the drive. After that, I looked around at the wooden atmosphere of the cabin, taking in the mismatched lamps, the giant stone fireplace, and the floor which was–you guessed it–wood. I had scrubbed this place top to bottom, put my books on the shelves, and arranged blankets on the couch to make it cozy, ‘cause, as Daddy always said, home is where the heart is. Unfortunately, home was now thick with the smell of Ben’s spicy-cheap cologne. I fought the urge to Lysol it away. At some point I dozed off, and that’s when Guinness started barking like crazy.
Chapter Two
_____________
I jumped up and chucked the blanket aside as someone knocked loudly on the door. Had Ben forgotten something–a bottle of ketchup he had a hankering for? By the third bang, I ripped the door open, ready to throat chop him. The anger quickly turned to shock, and then confusion. Actually, I shouldn’t have been surprised to see the town’s resident mean girl standing in front of me. I was having that sort of day.
“Kaitlyn Patone?” The mayor’s daughter and princess prissy pants of Bohemian Lake. At first I thought Halloween had come early, but then I realized she had been crying so hard that her mascara and eyeliner had bled all down her face. “What is this, prime visiting hour?”
“Yeah.” She pushed her way past me and nearly tripped over Guinness, who was still growling. “I need a good stiff drink.”
Oh, no. The only thing worse than hoity-toity Kaitlyn Patone talking behind your back was pathetic, drunk Kaitlyn Patone talking to your face. I had gotten to know the mayor’s daughter pretty well when I lived here, and she was not someone I missed. Still, she looked like she could use a friend.
“I believe there’s a bottle of red wine on the counter.” Believe, my ass. I was fully stocked on booze, but only because I’d arrived too late to call my best friend over.
“Why are you all dressed up?”
“I was out on a date earlier.” Kaitlyn huffed as she uncorked the bottle of red and took a swig. She critically surveyed her surroundings as she swallowed. “I never liked these rustic style homes. It’s like a tree committed suicide in here.”
“Maybe you want to sit down? Might I suggest the dead cow?” I said, ushering her into the living room. She shrugged and plopped herself into the leather chair. I sat across from her.
“Let’s get to the point. What are you doing here?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Huh? Then why’d you come over?”
Her face contorted like she might throw up. I sat straight back against the couch, putting as much distance between us as humanly possible.
Instead, she surprised me with her tears. Her cries ramped up fast until they became a series of unladylike snorts, the kind that resembled a barnyard animal. Finally she stopped, belched, and snatched the wine bottle back. “I got stood up.”
“By who?”
“I’m not ready to say who,” she said between sobs. The glue on one of her fake eyelashes had come loose and now dangled from the corner of her eye like a spider.
“Is it someone I know?”
“Maybe.”
We had never been pals, to say the least, due to our varying positions on, well, everything, and it baffled me as to why she’d come here right now, unless she and Olivia had grown cl
ose. If that was the case, maybe a leopard could change its razor sharp teeth… I mean spots. She certainly looked pathetic, spluttering and rubbing her hands up and down her face to divert the river of snot. Her hand trailed makeup as well as that dangling eyelash down her face and across her upper lip, resulting in a Groucho Marx lip toupee.
“I have done so much for that man, and he just stood me up… like I was a–a nobody. Can you imagine?” She looked me over like I was gum on her shoe. “Oh, what am I saying? Of course, you know what I’m talking about. Lucas threw you over for that pretty actress, right?”
One-two-three… I had to count to keep from punching her. When I’d calmed again, I poured myself a drink and took a big swallow. “Kaitlyn, tell me who.”
“I told you already–I can’t tell you.”
Well now, that’s not confusing at all.
“Really, Penelope, I’m laying my soul bare here.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, if you don’t tell me who, then how can I help you?”
Kaitlyn sighed dramatically, and I reached for my wine and chugged.
“What can you tell me, then?”
“I wanted to have his babies.”
I fought the urge to gag.
She sniffled. “And who else am I supposed to date now?”
“What’s wrong with being single for a while?”
She snorted and took a long pull of the wine. “You got any gin?”
I did, or rather Olivia did. I turned and strode the two steps to the fridge, fishing the bottle of gin from the freezer. I cracked it and shivered at the pine tree smell. The heavy bottle chilled my hand, and I glided back to the counter and mixed us both a generous gin and tonic with a squeeze of lime.
“How long had you been dating this mystery jerk?” I asked, handing Kaitlyn her drink.
“I’ve known him since high school. He worshipped the ground I walked on–begged me to go out with him. I finally did, and look what he does to me.”
“Maybe something important came up. Maybe he got in an accident, and he’s dead.” The alcohol loosened my tongue.
“That would have been better. But no, he’s into someone new. He told me as much when he cancelled our date. The nerve of him–I’m a Patone for goodness’ sake. I run this town.”
“Poor bastard,” I mumbled.
“What?”
“Time to get plastered.” I held my glass up. “Anyway, it’s his loss.”
“Amen to that.” She clinked her glass against mine.
“Can I ask you a question?” I decided to play dumb, see what Kaitlyn had to say about the contest.
“You just did.”
“I saw some four wheelers and a boat with no lights on out late tonight. What would they be doing, do you think?”
“Probably looking for the world’s most hyped coin like everyone else. This town is swarming with tourists in case you haven’t noticed.”
“Right, the contest. I just got back into town tonight so I haven’t really heard or seen much.”
She smirked. “Yeah, the new marketing girl in Daddy’s office read the piece in that magazine on Caravan and deemed the lost treasure a great tourism opportunity. You know Daddy, he loves to exploit. So, the town council planted a fake 1913 Liberty Head nickel. They’re offering a million pennies–that’s ten thousand dollars–and a free week at Gypsy Caravan Manor to whoever finds it by Monday.
“Speaking of boats and nocturnal activity, you know, for a moment I thought Olivia was the other woman. I saw my man get off a boat and I followed him here. I’d heard Olivia left town to travel for six months but thought maybe that was just a cover so they could sneak around together. But when you answered the door, and well…” She snorted with laughter and I didn’t know whether to laugh along or be offended. Instead I coughed, sending the burning sensation of alcohol through my nose.
“Wait a minute; your mystery man is Ben?”
“Yes, of course, and I mean it’s not like you’re his type,” she waffled, “and I know there’s no way in hell he’d choose you over me, so I’m back to being stumped. Tell me, Penelope Trubble, what was he doing with you tonight?”
“And you saw him on a boat tonight?” Well, that explained why he got all squirrelly when I mentioned it.
“You didn’t answer my question.” Kaitlyn started to sway, and I didn’t know how to tell her that I didn’t know what the hell had happened tonight either. Instead I yawned.
“I’m tired. I just want to go to bed.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what he was doing here?”
Anger suddenly pitted in my stomach. What was so wrong with me? I capped the gin, returned it to its hiding place, and shoved the empty wine bottle to the bottom of the recycling bin where it wouldn’t remind me of time spent with this she-devil. “Actually, Kate—”
“My name is Kaitlyn.”
“Fine, K-a-i-t-l-y-n,” I said, over pronouncing every letter. “It’s just as you suspected. Ben and I were knocking boots after a little joyride on the lake. You caught us. I guess you’ll want to go confront him now, huh?”
“Oh, please.” Kaitlyn started laughing like I’d just given her the punch line to one of Tina Fey’s jokes. “You crack me up. But seriously, I can’t drive when I’ve been drinking, and it’s not like I’m walking home now.”
“Wait–where are you going? The door is that way.”
But Kaitlyn ignored me. She staggered into my bedroom where, much like her recent lover, she fell face down into my bed. She twitched and wriggled a little before starting to snore. Birds of a feather, I thought to myself… particularly crows or seagulls or some other horrid winged beasts. Then I picked up my phone and hovered over the record button. She’d be outraged to find out she snored. But that would be mean, right? Something only she would do.
Instead I lifted her head to the side so she wouldn’t suffocate and crawled in next to her. Only the little devil on my shoulder wouldn’t shut up. So, I grabbed my phone and hit record. What can I say? I’m petty.
Chapter Three
_____________
M y cell phone buzzed on my nightstand. I rolled over with a groan and checked the caller ID. Rebel. “Um, hello, no calls before 7 a.m.”
My best friend griped into the phone. “Are you home early?”
I sat up and gasped. The spot next to me was empty of all annoying drunks. Thank God. Maybe it had all been a really bad nightmare. Wait a minute. “How did you know I’m back in town?”
Rebel Rouse had been my best friend since grade school with her soft, dark hair; a cute-as-hell smattering of freckles over her nose; hazel eyes; and a wicked temper when you pissed her off–like by not telling her you were in town two days early.
“How do you think?” she confirmed. “Big mouth Patone. I ran into her outside of Pike’s. Eve teased her for doing the walk of shame and she said she’d had a wild girl’s night with you. You better not have had any midnight margaritas with her.”
“As if. I only dance around the kitchen in my pajamas with you. Are you coming over?”
“Be there in ten.”
I hung up the phone, flicked on the radio and showered in less than five minutes. The droplets of water on my naked body felt deliciously cool against the heavy morning air but I pulled on my robe and wandered outside. The thermometer was already on the rise, but a soft breeze rustled the tree leaves and the scent of pine and wood smoke filled the air. I leaned against the deck railing and inhaled deeply, my senses alive. Everything smelled cleaner and crisper than in the city. Birds chirped in the boughs of the birch and maple trees that surrounded the cabin. I glanced around, a deep sense of contentment settling inside of me. It may not have been what I was planning, but it was good to be home.
Speaking of home, I had to get to town and talk to Dad about the treasure hunt. I let down my hair as I walked back inside and rubbed at it with the thick cotton towel, stirring up the medicinal smell of lavender shampoo as I mentally prepared a to-do list in m
y head: research and write the tale of the lost 1913 nickel; ask around about Ben the midnight molester to satisfy my curiosity; oh, and rent some diving equipment.
My phone rang again. Who’s calling me now? I tossed the towel over the back of a chair and reached for my floral romper. Rompers were my go-to summer garment, because if worn in the right pattern and material one could go sans undergarments. I slapped on some deodorant and twisted half my hair into a top-knot.
“You still coming?” I asked, seeing Rebel’s name again.
“I’m already here.”
“Well, why aren’t you inside already?”
“Because you didn’t answer the door, and I didn’t know if you had your gun handy. I didn’t want to surprise you!”
I giggled. “No gun. Anyway, if I did, there would be two dead bodies here already today, and I’d have called you to help me bury them.”
“And you know I would have brought my own shovel, girl.”
I hustled to the front door and pulled her in for a hug. “I’m sorry I didn’t let you know I’d returned but my eyelids were heavy by the time I unloaded. I planned to surprise you this morning.”
“I figured as much,” she said, her stoic nature working overtime. “Besides, you had to deal with Kaitlyn Patone… that’s punishment enough for any crime.”
“And Ben Baboon. He crawled into bed with me right before she arrived. I kicked him out.”
“He did not. You’re lying.”
“I swear I’m telling the truth.” I forced myself not to laugh as I raised my hands in surrender.
“Why didn’t you call me to come over?”
“Because if I didn’t even want to be here, why would I make you join me?” I stretched and reached across the table. “Is that my coffee?”
“Depends. Are you going to give me all the details?”
“For a jolt of caffeine, right now I would do anything.”
She pushed the paper cup across the table–a yellow and pink striped cup that read Cookies & Corsets. “Did he try to kiss you?”
Cookies, Corpses and the Deadly Haunt: Haunted House Flippers Inc. (Bohemian Lake Book 2) Page 15
