Murder on the Lost Coast (He said, She said Mystery Series Book 2)

by Jeramy Gates

  “Let it go!” I shouted.

  Miguel released his grip. Instantly, the line went tight against the cleat. The Agatha lurched, and Miguel went tumbling backwards. He tripped over me and went sprawling, his legs flying up in the air. Off to our right, the stainless steel tie-down made a groaning sound and began to bend. Before either one of us could act, one of the screws tore out of the wood planking. It shot up in the air with a pinging sound like a popping rivet. Miguel scrambled, and I dove forward, latching onto the rope with both hands. I squeezed my eyes shut and held my breath, waiting for it to pull me into the waves.

  Chapter 7

  Joe

  The rope was tight, going slack momentarily and then tugging like a semi with every passing wave. I held on with all my might. The blisters on my left palm were starting to ache, and though I had a hand-wrap, it didn’t do much to ease the pain. I clenched my jaw and tried to ignore the discomfort.

  I turned over on my back, with my bare feet propped up against the stainless rail mounts. I tightened my grip and started to pull, trying to ease the tension on the rope. It slid a few inches. I could feel the bandage on my left hand coming loose, tearing the blisters open. It was a slippery combination that made keeping my grip especially difficult. The rope slid an inch, and then another. The bandage fell off, and I grunted as shivers of pain rolled through my body.

  Miguel saw what I was doing, and he readjusted. He took the rope just ahead of my grip, and started pulling back on it. He gave it a good heave, using his body weight to relieve some of the tension. I took up the slack he had created, and then he gave it another yank. We worked in unison this way for a few seconds, until suddenly, the rope went slack. In the distance, I saw the Neptune slowly coming about. Miguel stood aside and let out a cheer. A smile came to my lips. I dropped the rope and sprawled out on the deck, staring up into the swirling fog.

  “We did it!” Miguel shouted. “I can’t believe it worked.”

  He was standing over me, grinning and clapping his hands. I became conscious of the wind howling across the deck, and the large rain-drops splashing down on my naked chest and shaved scalp. My toes were frozen and aching. My body was shivering. Blood ran from my left hand like a stab wound.

  I turned over to crawl back to my feet, and a spasm of pain shot through my hip. Miguel caught me by the arm and helped me up. “You okay, Meester Shepherd?”

  “Fine,” I grunted. I double over with my hands on my knees and took a few slow, deep breaths, trying to force back the pain. I put a hand on the rail, leaning on my right leg to take the weight off the left. The boat rose and fell beneath me. The pain seemed to throb with that movement. The bandage on my left hand was gone, and my fingers didn’t want to open. But I was alive, and my boat was still in one piece.

  When I felt like I could breathe again, I directed Miguel to tie the rope to a different cleat at the stern. While he did that, I went lurching toward the controls and got ready to move. We had to work fast, or the wind would blow us right back to where we’d started.

  As soon as Miguel gave me the thumbs-up, I revved the engine and the Agatha began a slow but noticeable forward movement. The Neptune came about behind us, punching into the waves. The rope went tight, but it was secure now. It wasn’t going anywhere. Miguel let out another spontaneous cheer. Despite the amount of pain I was suffering, I couldn’t help grinning. Insane as it was, we had somehow managed to save both boats.

  Emboldened by our success, I throttled her up even higher. The Agatha’s diesel is a fantastic little engine, but unfortunately, sailboats make lousy motorboats. Powering into that storm, fighting the waves and towing a second boat, we may as well have been sitting still. For a good while, I think we actually were.

  Eventually, we broke out of the harbor and into the open ocean. It was a relief, but we weren’t out of danger yet. We didn’t have to worry about the breakers anymore, but the wind was howling and the swells were enormous. I headed straight out to sea because I knew if anything went wrong, the last place we’d want to be was next to that rocky coastline.

  From that point on, my number one goal was to keep the rope between the boats tight. As long as the Agatha kept moving, and we kept the Neptune at a safe distance, we’d be safe.

  “Life vests are in that box,” I told Miguel. He hurried to put one on, and handed another to me.

  “What now?” he said.

  “We just have to wait a while for the storm to calm down.”

  “You are one crazy gringo. Aren’t you cold?”

  I glanced down at my bare chest and naked feet, and realized I couldn’t even feel my toes. “Take the wheel for a minute,” I said. Miguel took over, and I headed down into the cabin to find something warm and dry to wear.

  My luggage was already in the hotel, but I had stowed some old clothes on the boat when I was working on it. I’ve already explained how Tanja hates it when I ruin my good clothes by working in them. I try to remember to change into some old clothes before working on a project. I usually forget anyway, which is why the work clothes were still on the boat. I had completely forgotten they were there until that moment.

  I opened the cabinet next to the head, and grinned as I saw the old sweatshirt and jeans right where I’d left them six months ago. In the lower cabinet, I found my old pair of hiking boots. I didn’t have any socks, but just getting my feet dry and covered up would be a big step in the right direction.

  I quickly dressed, and then located the rain ponchos in the closet by the galley. I threw one on and took the other for Miguel. After I made the painful climb back up to the deck, I took over the controls again, and Miguel searched the locker for a first-aid kit. Thankfully, there was a decent-sized bandage wrap, and Miguel gave me a hand getting it on.

  The storm had calmed a bit, and the rain had settled down to a steady drizzle. The sky behind us was brightening with the light of dawn. The wind and waves remained furious, and now and then a gust hit us hard enough to steer the Agatha off course. Thankfully, we were far enough out to sea that it really didn’t matter. We could drift any direction, so long as we didn’t head for shore.

  Miguel and I spent the next two hours zigzagging along the coast, first powering into the storm and then partially hoisting the sail and letting the wind take us back in the opposite direction. We weren’t going anywhere in particular; just staying a mile or two offshore while trying to keep the Neptune’s line tight to avoid a collision. We were never more than a few miles away from Dead Man’s Bay, but for most of that time, all we could see was the distant outline of cliffs in the fog.

  Eventually, the storm subsided and I saw a patch of blue overhead. Briefly, I actually thought it might clear up. How naive I was. I barely had time to register the thought before a pea soup fog closed in around us. The sky grew dark, and within minutes, we couldn’t see anything beyond the bow. If not for the tension on the rope, we couldn’t even have been sure the Neptune was still behind us.

  The GPS had been going in and out the whole time, but I had a fair idea of where we were, and I felt confident we could make it back into the harbor now. I followed the northeasterly course we had been traveling, listening carefully to the sound of crashing waves off to my right. It wasn’t long before we saw the familiar flash of the old lighthouse on the hill, and heard the waves breaking against the cliffs off our starboard side.

  We came around the point, moving just as slowly and carefully as we could. There, in the shelter of Dead Man’s Bay, the water became almost glassy. The fog drifted across the smooth surface, and in the silence, we heard the occasional wave crashing against the beach.

  I carved a wide circle around the bay, bringing us alongside the main dock. I cut the engine as we glided in, and Miguel leapt to the dock to tie us off. I wasn’t in a hurry to join him. My left leg hurt so bad that I wasn’t sure I’d make it back to the inn without a wheelchair. I stumbled to the rear of the boat and untied the Neptune.

  Before I tossed the line to Miguel, I lo
oked it over.

  “What’s up, Boss?” Miguel said as he saw me inspecting it.

  I showed it to him. He frowned. “What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing. I thought it might have broken in the storm, maybe that was why it got loose.”

  “Maybe it just came untied.”

  “No doubt,” I said with a grim look. “Jacob didn’t tie a decent knot. That guy’s a tool. I should have let his boat crash.”

  Miguel gave me a weak smile. He was above trash-talking one of the locals. I wasn’t. I continued cursing out Jacob under my breath while I shut down the electronics and Miguel finished tying off.

  Tanja and Charlotte appeared, followed by the other guests. Tanja had my cane, and she handed it to me as she climbed aboard. She threw her arms around me, kissing me on the lips. She stared into my eyes with a dreamy, schoolgirl-in-love sort of gaze. Tanja’s not usually the type for that romantic nonsense, so I was feeling a bit like a rock star. Then she said:

  “You’re an idiot. If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll kill you.”

  Angus laughed as he reached across the rail to shake my hand. “Well done,” he said. “Very heroic. You wouldn’t catch me out in that storm for a million bucks.”

  “Hero?” said Miguel. “He’s loco, that’s what.”

  “I guess that makes two of us,” I said, grinning at him.

  “That’s true,” said Charlotte. “It was very brave of you to help him, Miguel.”

  Miguel gave her a humble grin and went to double check the lines on the Neptune. Tanja and I crawled over the rail. I winced as my weight came down on my left leg.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Charlotte said to me. “You risked your life to save Jacob’s boat. I can’t imagine what he would have done if his boat was wrecked in the storm. That boat is his entire life.”

  “I’d really like to talk to him about it,” I said. “Where does he live?”

  “In the lighthouse, but he’s not home. I already checked. I’m a little worried about him disappearing like this… not making sure his boat was secure. It’s not like Jacob at all.”

  “Where else could he be?” I said.

  Charlotte squeezed the pendant on her necklace as she gazed through the haze toward the lighthouse. “Nowhere. That’s what’s so unusual. Jacob doesn’t ever leave the property except when he goes to town. He sticks to a very strict routine. He goes fishing early in the morning, around four a.m., and he’s usually back by noon. He goes home for a few hours and then comes down to the bar for a drink before he goes to bed.”

  “Every day?” I said.

  “Every single day,” said Dana, who had been listening to our conversation. “I’ve been working here for five years, and the only thing that changes is once a week -usually on Friday- Jacob goes up the coast to do his shopping. He comes back with some groceries and carries them up to the lighthouse. It usually takes two trips. I offered to help him a couple times, but he refused. Jacob doesn’t seem to like people very much.”

  “We’ve noticed,” Tanja said, glancing at me.

  Another thought occurred to me. “Jacob wouldn’t have taken his boat out in this weather, would he?” I asked. “If he was out there in this storm-” I didn’t need to finish the thought. It was easy enough to picture a wave sweeping Jacob off the deck of his boat.

  “Never,” said Charlotte. “Jacob was ornery, but he wasn’t stupid.”

  I begged to differ, but Tanja elbowed me in the ribs before I could say as much.

  “I wonder if he had a heart attack or something,” said Dana. “Maybe we should go check on him.”

  “Oh my,” Charlotte said. A look of genuine concern washed over her features. “Do you think that’s why he didn’t answer the door?”

  I exchanged a glance with Tanja, and Charlotte immediately took off in the direction of the lighthouse. “Dana, check the inn,” Charlotte said over her shoulder. “Ask if anyone else has seen him.”

  Dana headed in that direction. Tanja hurried after Charlotte, and I went limping after both of them.

  Chapter 8

  Tanja

  The morning fog was thinning, and I saw a few splotches of blue sky over the ocean as I followed Charlotte up the narrow wooden stairs that zigzagged directly up the hill from the beach to the lighthouse. I was thinking Joe would take the alternate -and easier- route along the hill behind the inn, but halfway there, I turned around to see my husband making the slow excruciating climb behind me. He was wearing the ratty old sweatshirt and boots he’d left in the boat, and the bandage he’d replaced on his left hand was stained with blood. He looked downright pathetic, and it didn’t look very comfortable holding his cane with that injury.

  “You gonna make it?” I said.

  “Keep going. I’m right behind you.”

  As if to prove his point, Joe put on a little burst of speed and started skipping every other step. I cringed as horrifying visions of my husband falling down the stairs and rolling all the way to the beach flooded my mind. I was afraid he was going to hurt himself, but I knew that as stubborn as Joe was, anything I said would only make matters worse. I bit my tongue, and resumed the climb.

  When I reached the top, Charlotte was already at the lighthouse. She was banging on the door and peeking through the windows while calling out Jacob’s name. I turned to check on Joe, and was surprised to find that he wasn’t far behind me. I gave him a few seconds to catch up, and then we hurried along the path to join Charlotte.

  The lighthouse was a tall whitewashed stone tower with a catwalk at the top and a cottage-like home at the base. The cottage had a steep sloping roof with cedar shingles and limestone stucco siding. It was a picture-perfect fairytale scene, with the fog and the blue ocean rising in the backdrop and the steep redwood-studded mountains looming behind us. It was the kind of scene that made me want to dig out my paint supplies and try to capture the moment. Unfortunately, my supplies were back home, buried deep in the back of a closet, and they hadn’t seen the light of day in close to five years.

  Charlotte gave us a worried look over her shoulder as Joe and I approached. “He’s not answering,” she said. “Can you break the door down?”

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I said. “What if he comes back, and finds us breaking into his home?”

  “You don’t know Jacob like I do. He would never disappear like this. He just wouldn’t. He must be in there.”

  Her plea was so heartfelt that I couldn’t help but believe her. Joe and I exchanged a glance. He gave me a questioning look and I mumbled, “Okay, go ahead.”

  He pulled out his wallet, producing his set of lock picks. He picked out the two he needed, and handed me the wallet. It was sopping wet from his earlier adventure.

  “Are those what I think they are?” Charlotte said.

  I took her by the arm and drew her back out of the way. “They’re investigative tools,” I said. “Lock-picking is pretty basic knowledge for a detective.”

  “But aren’t they illegal?”

  “Only when you’re using them,” Joe said, and gave her a devious grin. He leaned his cane against the doorframe and bent over, pressing one shoulder against the door as he went to work on the lock. “Aha!” he said about twenty seconds later. He stood upright, twisted the handle, and the door slid quietly open. Charlotte hesitated. I stepped forward.

  “Jacob!” I called through the narrow opening. “Are you in there? We’re coming in.”

  There was no answer, so I pushed the door open and stepped inside. I had never been inside a lighthouse before, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. I found myself in a small mud room with a washer and dryer and a small sink. A basket of dirty laundry sat on the floor beneath the window, and two coats hung from a hanger by the door. One was the yellow parka I’d seen Jacob wearing on the boat. The other was the heavy wool peacoat he’d worn to the bar.

  The interior door was open, so we stepped into the kitchen. There was a small table a
t the center of the room, and two dining chairs, one of which had been smashed into pieces on the floor. An electric coffee machine sat on the counter, still turned on. The coffee inside the glass pot had boiled down to a thick syrup. Next to it was an empty vodka bottle lying on its side on the counter.

  “This isn’t right,” Charlotte said. “What do you think happened here?”

  “It looks like there was a struggle,” I said. “Stay here while we check the rest of the house.”

  Joe and I went into the next room. The living room had a recliner in the corner, an old-fashioned tube-style television, and a bookcase against the inside wall. The windows offered clear views of both the inn and the ocean.

  There were two additional doorways, one leading into a bedroom behind the kitchen, and a third leading into the tower. From the living room, I could see the spiral staircase winding its way up to the lighthouse control room. Nothing appeared out of place except for the red light mounted on the ceiling between the kitchen and living room. It flashed as we were standing there.

  “What’s that?” I said.

  “It’s a monitor for the lighthouse,” Charlotte explained. “That bulb is wired directly into the circuit. If it stops flashing, Jacob knows he needs to repair something. It’s positioned there so he can see it from anywhere in the house.”

  I glanced at Joe as he vanished into the bedroom. He reappeared a moment later shaking his head. “No sign of him,” he said with a resigned tone.

  “I guess we’d better check the lighthouse,” I said.

  The three of us walked through the doorway, into the stairwell at the base of the tower. “Great,” Joe mumbled, gazing up at the spiral staircase. “More stairs.”

  “Why don’t you stay here?” I said. “I’m sure we’ll be fine without you.”