A Deadly Development
A Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery
Stacey Alabaster
Fairfield Publishing
Copyright © 2018 Fairfield Publishing
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Except for review quotes, this book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written consent of the author.
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is purely coincidental.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Epilogue
Thank You!
1
Alyson
There are rules in the surf. You don’t cut someone off, and you definitely don’t steal someone’s wave. First surfer gets dibs. Claire, as rusty as she was, and as much as I wanted to show her how it was done, was there first. So, I hung back on my board and tried to watch her do her thing.
If only everyone had my sort of manners. “Oi!” I called out as a man barreled in past her and caught the wave, knocking Claire off her board and into the water. “Who do you think you are!” I paddled out to make sure that Claire was all right—all I could see was her blonde hair bobbing up and down, in and out of the wave. But I kept half an eye on our interloper as he grinned and made his way back to the sand as though proud of the amazing job he’d just done. I didn’t recognize him, but from the way he had caught the wave, I could tell he was someone just learning and not someone who’d been surfing their whole life. Looked too clean-cut to be a proper surfer anyway. Maybe he’d read an article proclaiming it as the most recent fitness trend, or maybe it was some sort of midlife crisis. I frowned and checked out his physique. Well, maybe not quite middle age… He was only about thirty.
Claire pushed me away and stumbled onto the sand uneasily. I laughed at her falling over like a foal. I also found it a bit funny that she’s lost her way in the surf, unable to hold her own to this city slicker, but she didn’t seem to find it funny, casting a scowl in my direction. Ah well, I’d just let her bruised ego heal a little bit, and then she’d be all right. Claire always had a harder time shrugging things off than I did.
I had way bigger things to worry about that day anyway. I dried myself off and checked the time. Yikes. Only had an hour before I needed to be at the construction site. Or as I was hoping to make it, the NON-construction site. “Can you believe that they are going to build a mall and cinema complex here in Eden Bay? Who needs that when we have all this natural beauty! I’m going to the protest later if you want to come with me,” I said to Claire, who was putting her jacket on over her wetsuit. “Maybe we can get ice cream afterwards. Or before?” It was so great with Claire back in town. Reunited with my best friend. I was sure that now that she was back for good, it was going to be like old times!
But she didn’t want to come to the protest. Not that surprising. Claire loved shopping malls and sitting on her butt watching movies.
Ah well. “I’ll see you at Captain Eightball’s later?” At least we could still get ice cream.
She shook her head and wrapped the towel around her waist as she hurried off the sand. “I’m busy with the shop today. I need to pick the book for this week’s book club. I won’t be able to make it.”
“Huh?” We’d already made plans, though. She was gone before I could say that to her. Oh well. It would give me plenty of time to work after the protest. And plenty of time to work before the protest. Ugh…work. Well, I prefer to think of what I do as less like work and more of a side effect of my passion—surfing—but on this day, I was procrastinating over a board that I had to paint. The customer was a little demanding. And he had commissioned a design that was a little trickier than I usually did—a turtle staring up at a moon over a rippling lake. I didn’t want to disappoint him when he came to pick it up the next day.
I sat on the sand and started to think of a hundred other things I could do instead of this. I could go back into the water. I could go get an ice cream. I could finally start to learn to play the saxophone.
Our friend from earlier had dried off and found himself something designer to wear. I watched him curiously while I finally picked up a paintbrush. Mr. Expensive Suit was making his way across the sand. Oh, shoot. He wasn’t heading right toward me, was he?
“Ah,” he said, with a grin as he looked at my boards. “Looks like you are the expert around here.” Right. So he was one of those people who just came right up and spoke to strangers like he knew them. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a friendly girl, but I do have my limits, and I was trying to concentrate. Well, I was sort of looking for a distraction.
I glanced up at him. “Expert at what?”
He nodded at the boards. “The one to talk to about all things surfing.” Then he nodded out toward the waves. “And I saw you out there before. You ever give lessons to other people besides your friend?”
I shook my head a little. “Nah, just do that out of the goodness of my own heart.”
“I’d pay you for a lesson.”
I mulled this over for a moment. “Well, the first thing I would teach you is that you don’t cut other surfers off.”
He opened his mouth like he was ready to defend himself, then paused and looked a little embarrassed. “I wasn’t aware that’s what I did. I will apologize to your friend next time I see her.”
“Good luck,” I said, raising my eyebrows a little. Claire was less forgiving than I was.
He set his board on the sand. “So, what design would you recommend?”
I glanced at his blank board. I wondered if he even had any idea about design aesthetics or what looked good on a surfboard. Hmm, how far could I push this? I’d been wanting to try out an octopus design for a while. I was about to suggest that when he got a phone call. “Right. Of course. I’ll be right there. Keep them at bay in the meantime.” He sounded a little gruff as he ended the call.
“Business is calling,” he said, picking up his board. He shot me a wink.
The construction site was filling up with people, which was a good thing, because the hole that had already been dug was a total eyesore. The crowd at least obscured it a bit. Once we’d stopped construction, the next step would be to get the hole filled in. “Hi there,” I said as I joined the picket line and picked up my placard. I’d sent a few texts to Claire asking if she wanted to meet up when I was done, but all of them had gone unanswered. Geez, she wasn’t still sore over her fall in the waves, was she? She probably just thought I was going to wind her up about it when we next met up. But I knew how to drop things.
…though she had looked pretty funny, all wet and spluttery like that. Wish I’d taken a photo.
There was booing and chanting as a car, fancy and not unlike Claire’s, pulled up in front of the empty lot. There were so many other things the space could be used for. A local museum. A new skatepark. Or better yet, just leave it empty. Leave us the unobstructed views of the ocean.
I got hit in the head by a placard and ducked and winced, rubbing the back of my head. Geez. Protesting was tiring work. There was a young guy next to me with dark hipster glasses and curly hair to round off the look. He kinda looked like a 1970
s psychologist. Way too cool for anything. He told me his name was Joel but only when I’d asked him a few times and practically forced him to tell me. I’m telling you, this guy was way too cool.
He wasn’t the most interesting person to be stuck next to, as far as conversation was concerned. I was yammering on about the new flavors of ice cream topping down at Captain Eightball’s and telling him how my niece, Jasmine, who we call “J” for short, took two mini marshmallows the day before and put them right up her nostrils, He stuck his nose in the air. I asked him if he ever surfed. He shook his head a little. Hmm. He probably didn’t like getting his hair wet. “So what brought you here today?” I asked, trying to get something out of him. Like blood from a stone.
He shrugged a little, his oversized cardigan falling down to his wrists and then making a little pool around the stick he was holding. “I just think the guy who runs the company building this thing is corrupt. And he thinks we don’t know about him. But I know all about him.”
This was the most conversation I had gotten out of the guy all morning. But my stomach was rumbling.
“Can you hold this for me while I run and get a bite to eat?” I asked. “Just something from the vending machine.” There was one up on the esplanade nearby. There were vending machines everywhere in Eden Bay. I didn’t plan on being long. I just wanted to get a bag of salt and vinegar chips.
He looked at me like I’d just asked him to climb Mount Everest for me. Or maybe like I’d just run over his cat. “You don’t just get to take a break from protesting evil, Alyson.”
I rolled my eyes and shoved the sign at him. “I’ll be two minutes. Can I get you anything?”
He pouted for a moment, then reluctantly asked me to grab him a soda. I supposed it was okay to take a break from protesting evil if you were really, really thirsty.
I put a few coins into the soda machine, choosing orange flavor for both of us, and grabbed them out of the machine. Then I stood up and noticed the person getting out of the expensive car. He stepped over the tape into the contraction site. I gasped. It was the guy from the beach. Mr. Expensive Suit. Mr. “please teach me how to surf.” Mr. “I own the waves now.”
He was the guy in charge of building the complex? He was Mr. Evil?
Oh no, he’s coming toward me. I tried to play it cool and wondered what to do with the two soda cans freezing my hands off.
He looked a little surprised to see me as he pulled his shades off, but then his face broke out into a wide smile. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here.”
Er, he wouldn’t be saying that when he learned I was part of the picket line. I gulped.
Reporters had started to gather to cover the event and there was so much chatter behind us that it was threatening to drown out our conversation.
“What are you doing here?” he asked me. He laughed. “You never struck me as the reporter type.”
“Um, just…” I tried to lean casually against the vending machine and felt grateful that Joel had my sign. “Just chilling out, you know.”
“Hey, are you coming back for this sign or what? Are where is my soda?” Joel had both hands cupped over his mouth so that his voice traveled loud and proud toward us even over the groan of the crowd.
I glanced down at the two soda cans I was holding, one in each hand. “Haha. Um, I don’t know him.”
“Hang on, are you with those guys?” Mr. Suit laughed a little as though it must be some sort of joke, or clearly he was mistaken. He was just waiting for me to correct him. And for a moment—a stupid, weak moment—I actually wanted to reassure him that no, I wasn’t, that I was just causally passing by, just chilling out. “Because those guys are a bunch of lazy jerks who are costing me thousands of dollars right now,” he added before I could say anything.
Wow. Right. I was not going to stand for that.
“I am with those guys, as a matter of fact,” I said, squaring up to him. “And I think what you are planning to do to this town is a disgrace. We don’t need anyone like you coming here and telling us what our town should look like. And I won’t stop until this whole construction is shut down!”
He smiled at me in a cool way, but I could tell that he was rattled. “I don’t have to stand here and listen to the opinion of someone who paints surfboards for a living.” He put his shades back on and started to walk off.
I chased after him. “Well, you are going to have to listen to me when I join the line and tell everyone what you are really like!” I shouted, but he had already disappeared into the construction site. He even had the nerve to wear a hard hat. Ha. As if he would ever be the one getting his hands dirty.
But by the time I had cooled down a little and rejoined the picket line, reporters had gathered in a circle and were all murmuring. “Call an ambulance!” one of them called out.
An ambulance? I pushed past them. “What is going on—” I gasped.
My friend, Joel, the one waiting for his soda, was lying lifeless on the ground.
Uh oh. Not again.
I called Claire. But she was still refusing to pick up.
2
Claire
Do you know what seawater does to your hair? It makes it dry, tangled, and makes it feel…well, makes it feel like you’ve been in seawater. I took one look at my appearance in the bookstore mirror and shook my head. “I’ll make a salon appointment after lunch.” A meow at my feet stole my attention. I stared down into the empty china. Was I hallucinating? Mr. Ferdinand meowed at me as if to say, “Yes, I ate it all.” He didn’t even have the good sense to look guilty or ashamed. Cats rarely do though, do they? They think that this is their planet and we humans just exist here to attend to their every need. I could not believe the amount of food this cat was going through. I picked him up and showed him to the only customer in the shop, Maria. “Does he look like he’s overweight to you?”
Maria had been coming into the bookshop since I was a kid, back when my grandma had been the owner. She’d also been my drama teacher in high school and she definitely had a flair for the dramatic. She liked bright colors in her clothes and hair and had an opinion about everything and every book. She had also known Mr. Ferdinand for every year of his seventeen on the planet.
Maria was wearing a long billowy dress that showed off her curvaceous figure, in swirls of pink and purple. It reminded me of rainbow ice cream. If you asked me, rainbow ice cream was the biggest scam going. It was just caramel flavored, wasn’t it? But in bright colors. You try telling that to Alyson, though. She was convinced that every different color had a different flavor. Power of suggestion.
Maria shook her head. “No, he’s just big-boned.”
That was a polite way to put it.
She shuffled over to the counter with that day’s purchase in hand. A new book, fiction, about a man who finds a woman’s purse and has to return it to her. It was a bestseller and had gotten a great review in the national paper. But Maria wasn’t used to paying full price for books. My grandma had always let her swap books. Yep, she even let customers swap their old secondhand books for brand new ones. Maria pulled the twenty-dollar bill from her purse, but there was a moment of hesitation before she actually handed it over.
“Too bad I can’t swap this for one of my own,” she said with a heavy sigh. “That’s the way to do it.”
“What you’re looking for is a library,” I pointed out wryly.
Eden Bay did have a very small library, but the fact that it was so small and had such a teeny selection was one of the reasons that my grandmother’s store had always been so successful. Barely anyone bothered with the library. Unless you wanted an old 70s cookbook or an out of date atlas, it wasn’t much good. My grandma’s shop had far more books and she even let people swap them. It had become the de facto library of the town.
Mr. Ferdinand was meowing at my feet. Maria laughed heartily. “Are you sure you feed that cat?”
“Yes. Too much.”
“By the sounds of it, he’s ready fo
r seconds.”
It was true. “Well, I am going to have to go to the store and pick up some more dry food before the end of the day,” I said with a sigh. I was still staying at the Dolphin (F)Inn Motel and I could not keep a cat there, so Mr. Ferdinand lived at the bookshop. And I had no intention of finding a more permanent residency at the moment.
“I can look after the shop for five minutes,” Maria offered cheerfully.
Sure, why not? We’d been low on customers all afternoon, so I couldn’t see what harm it would do to leave Maria in charge.
“I’ll be back in ten,” I said, pulling the door shut. “Make sure you don’t allow any customers to exchange books while I am gone.”
I was carrying a bag of dry food back, struggling with it and trying to do the math in my head. It was the third bag I had bought that week. Could that be right? Surely cats didn’t eat that much. I tried to balance the bag while I reached into my pocket for my phone so that I could Google it. Suddenly, someone jumped out in front of me and shouted, “Aha!”
I almost dropped my phone face-down onto the concrete. I would have made her pay for the screen replacement.
I placed the bag on the ground and straightened myself up. “Alyson. Jumping out at people? Isn’t this a little immature?” I picked up the bag again once my phone was safely back in my pocket. I tried to sidestep her. Then I stopped and glanced around. How did she know I was here? “Did you follow me here?”
Alyson shrugged. “Well, you weren’t answering any of my texts. You didn’t leave me much choice.”
A Deadly Development (Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery Book 2) Page 1
