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

by Jeramy Gates

  I settled back into the chair across from my wife, staring at the steam rising from my mug. “I guess you were right all along,” I said with a resigned tone.

  “What?”

  “You were right about Jacob. He was murdered. We can be sure of that now.”

  She gave me a sly half-grin. “Does that mean I owe you an I told you so?”

  “Save it for later,” I said. “I’m sure you’ll owe me more before this is all over.”

  Tanja chuckled. We fell silent for a minute. Finally, she said, “I’ve been wondering about the others. Who else could be the killer if it’s not Dana? It has to be somebody else in this room; somebody with a connection to both Charlotte and Jacob.”

  “Not necessarily,” I said with a grin, thinking I was one step ahead of her. “There’s always Gerard.”

  “True. He easily could have killed Jacob, with or without poison. Nobody would have even seen him coming and going. It would have been easy to sneak into the lighthouse while Jacob was out fishing, and he could have moved the body by himself.”

  I leaned closer. “That’s just what I was thinking. He makes an even better suspect than Dana!”

  “Yes, but there is a problem with that theory.”

  “What? The lack of a motive?”

  She shook her head. “Charlotte’s poisoned wine. Assuming that her wine was the delivery method -and I think it’s pretty safe to say it was- Gerard would have had to come into the inn to lace the wine. Could he do that without being observed?”

  “Doesn’t seem very likely, does it?” I said.

  She shook her head. “Judging from his behavior yesterday, I’d say everyone around here is pretty mindful of Gerard’s presence, especially in the inn.”

  Tanja looked the group over. She squinted a little, and then her eyes lit up. I could tell a new theory had occurred to her. “Unless you’re wrong,” she said, her eyes sparkling in the dim light.

  “About what?”

  “Think about this: Jacob is dead. The sheriff has come and gone without arresting anyone or suspecting anything. It might be murder, but then again it might not. Either way, if there is an investigation, it will start with you. What better opportunity for someone to kill Charlotte?”

  I frowned. “I’m not following. What was I wrong about?”

  “Jacob being murdered. What if the person who killed Charlotte didn’t kill Jacob? His death could still have been accidental, but it provided the opportunity for the killer to murder Charlotte, all the while throwing suspicion on you.”

  “And you say my theories are far-fetched?”

  “Maybe, but either way, keep this in mind: All the killer has to do is make it look like you killed Charlotte.”

  That gave me pause. In fact, I was stirring a teaspoon of sugar into my coffee and I literally stopped to stare at her. After a moment of quiet consideration, I said: “If that’s true, we can’t even rule out the possibility that we have two distinctly unrelated murders here.”

  “I know, I already thought of that. What do you suppose are the odds of that happening?”

  “Two murders… two killers. Both completely unrelated? Seems pretty unlikely.”

  We fell silent for a while, sipping our drinks, staring at the various people in the room while trying not to look like we were staring. After about ten minutes, Tanja leaned back in her chair and sighed.

  “What is it?” I said.

  “I don’t know… just something I’m still curious about. Something that could even solve this case, if I knew how to get my hands on it.”

  I frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The book Charlotte took from Jacob’s house.”

  My eyes widened. “I’d almost forgotten about that. Do you think it’s in her office?”

  “Where else? She never left that room.”

  “Did you see it in there?”

  “No, but I didn’t exactly have a chance to search. It wasn’t anywhere obvious.”

  I leaned forward with my elbows on the table, stroking my goatee. “It is quite a coincidence, Charlotte being murdered right after taking that book.”

  “I know. It must be something important. She wouldn’t have gone back there if it wasn’t.” She reached out to touch my hand. “Joe, we have to get back in her office.”

  I groaned. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”

  Chapter 13

  Tanja

  We decided that in order to avoid attention, it would be best if just one of us tried to slip out of the room alone. Since Joe was better at lock-picking, he would be the one to go. Once we had arrived at that conclusion, it was just a matter of waiting.

  By three a.m., the Lincolns had fallen asleep on the sofa. Dana and the other employees had spread out in front of the fireplace, reclining on pillows. Angus was there, too, and Blake seemed to have dozed off in the recliner. It looked like the perfect opportunity.

  Very quietly, we slid our chairs back and rose from the table. I went to the bar under the pretext of returning the coffee pot. I kept a close eye on everyone as I walked across the room. Simultaneously, Joe rose from his chair and wandered nonchalantly towards the hallway, as if he were headed to the restroom. Everything was going according to plan, until Joe stepped around the corner and a loud voice said:

  “Ahem! Where do you two think you’re going?”

  Joe froze, and I snapped my head around to see Blake rising from the recliner. As he rose to his feet, I realized he had a pearl-handled snub-nosed revolver in his hand. He cocked the hammer back with a loud click.

  “I guess we found our killers,” he said with a sly smile.

  By then, we had everyone’s attention. The noise even woke the Lincolns, who bolted upright on the couch.

  “What’s going on?” Nancy said, blinking. “Did something happen?”

  “I just caught these two trying to sneak off,” said Blake. “Trying to cover their tracks, no doubt.”

  “It’s not what you think,” I said. “Joe and I might have a clue to solve the murders.”

  “A clue?” Blake said in mocking voice. “This ain’t Sherwood Holmes lady, and you’re not a cop.”

  “But I am a cop,” I said. “At least I used to be. I was an FBI agent.”

  “Don’t you mean Sherlock Holmes?” interrupted Nancy.

  “I’m sure that’s what he meant,” George said, chiming in. “Sherwood is from Robin Hood, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, dear, I believe you’re right-”

  “Would you two shut up?” said Blake. “I’m trying to stop a killer here.”

  “I don’t get it,” said Angus. “Why would they kill Charlotte? They’re cops.”

  “Crooked cops is more like it,” said Miguel. “I saw Meester Shepherd break into Jacob’s boat, right after he got here.”

  Joe’s face darkened. I shook my head, warning him to keep his mouth shut.

  “It’s true,” Dana said helpfully. “Joe picked the lock on the lighthouse, too. Charlotte told me all about it.”

  “That’s very interesting,” said Blake. “Does the sheriff know about all of this?”

  “Charlotte asked me to do that!” Joe said. He took a step forward, and Blake raised the gun in response.

  “Settle down, Hoss. I got no problem filling you full of lead.”

  I spoke up: “You’re quick to resort to murder, Mr. Randall. Why are you so interested in making sure nobody goes near that room? Is it because there’s something you don’t want us to find?”

  “What?”

  “Oh, come now. I’m sure you know what I’m talking about. Since the moment Charlotte was murdered, you’ve been trying to keep us out of that room. What’s in there, Blake? Did you forget something incriminating?”

  His face reddened at the accusation. I could see his grip tightening on the gun. Not quite the reaction I had been hoping for.

  “That’s ridiculous! Why would I do that? I had an agreement to buy this resort. Now the deal is
ruined!”

  “Is it?” I said in a calm voice. “Or maybe it was already ruined? Maybe something went wrong yesterday. Maybe Charlotte decided to back out of the deal. Is that why you killed her?”

  Blake clenched his teeth and his upper lip curled in a snarl. He looked like he was on the verge of doing something stupid. I figured I’d better talk him out of his tree quick, before he decided to start squeezing that trigger.

  “Put that gun down, Blake,” I said. “You’ve got no right to hold a gun on us. We’re no more suspect than any of you.”

  “Bullcrap. You two were the ones in there. You’re the ones who broke into the boat, and the lighthouse.”

  “But we’re also detectives,” I said. “And Joe is a highly decorated cop. Believe me, if you shoot my husband, you’ll be on your way to the gas chamber so fast it’ll make your head spin. That is, if I don’t kill you first.”

  He rolled his eyes. “What’re you gonna do, little lady? You gonna take this gun away from me? Beat me up with those pretty little fists of yours?”

  “Don’t think she won’t,” Joe said with a wry grin. I shot him a glare that told him he wasn’t helping.

  “I’m going to Charlotte’s office,” I announced. “I’m going to find the reason she went back to the lighthouse, and maybe the reason she got killed.”

  Dana frowned. “What are you talking about? When did Charlotte go back to the lighthouse?”

  “She was there tonight,” Joe said. “Just before she was murdered. Tanja and I followed her. That’s why we were outside. Which, incidentally, is where we were when she was killed. Unlike you, Blake.”

  Blake looked at the others for support and found them staring back at him. He licked his lips.

  “It’s true,” said Angus. “I saw them come in through the lobby. It was after Charlotte collapsed.”

  “Then they couldn’t have killed her,” Dana said.

  That wasn’t exactly true, since Charlotte had been poisoned, but I didn’t feel the need to point it out. Blake’s shoulders drooped. He shook his head and lowered the gun. “Maybe you aren’t the killers, but I’m not letting you go in there alone. I’m going with you.”

  “Why should I agree to that?” I said. “For all I know, you’re the killer. And you have a gun. You might decide to shoot us the second we walk out of here.”

  He pursed his lips. “I’ll leave the gun here.”

  “With who?” I said. “Anyone in this room could be the killer.”

  “Not us,” said Nancy. “We weren’t even awake when Charlotte was killed. We were asleep, in our room.”

  “It’s true,” said Dana. “They were the last to come out.”

  I looked over the crowd. “Will anyone else vouch for them?”

  Angus raised his hand. “I will. I know they went to bed early, because I was in the lobby at the time. And frankly, out of all of you, they’re the only two I’m inclined to trust.”

  “Same here,” said Chef Melville. “Give ‘em the gun, Blake.”

  I turned to face Blake. “Will that suffice? Give the Lincolns your gun, and the two of us will go together.”

  He hesitated.

  “It’s time to put the gun away now, Mr. Blake. We already have two murders. We don’t need another.”

  He sighed as he handed the revolver to Nancy. “I was just trying to protect everyone,” he said. “I didn’t hurt anybody.”

  “I know,” I said. “No harm done. Let’s keep it that way.”

  I turned to face Joe, and he handed me his lock-picks. I could see the anger simmering behind his cloudy blue eyes. I touched his shoulder and lowered my voice: “Take it easy. I’ll be back in a few minutes. We’ll get to the bottom of this.”

  I squeezed his hand and he stared into my eyes. I know we were both thinking the same thing. I had defused the situation by getting the gun away from Blake, but I may have turned our only hope of self defense over to the killers. The fact that everyone had seen the Lincolns come out of their room didn’t necessarily mean they’d been there the entire time, and it certainly didn’t mean they were incapable of poisoning Charlotte. In fact, I was almost certain they could have killed Charlotte without anyone knowing. They had at least as much access to her office as the rest of us.

  I didn’t say any of this, of course. I simply gave Joe a hug and then headed upstairs with Blake. Despite all the possibilities, I knew that the Lincolns really were the least likely suspects. And judging from their behavior and body language, they were about the only two people who hadn’t lied to me. At least I didn’t think they had. It’s not always easy to tell.

  Ten minutes later, I was still trying to pick the lock. Blake was leaning up against the wall, watching me.

  “Are you sure you know how to do this?” he said, glancing at his watch.

  “Of course! I’m just not as good at it as Joe.”

  “Maybe we should go get him.”

  “I can get it,” I said, peering into the hole. “I’m sure the pins are…”

  I didn’t even get to finish the sentence. The last pin slid into place with a quiet click. I held my breath and twisted the door handle.

  “Hallelujah!” Blake said as the door swung open. “I was about to fall asleep standing here. Now, what was it you wanted to show me?”

  I stepped into the office and scanned the room. Everything looked exactly as we had left it: the body lying under the sheet, the broken wineglass resting off to the side, the broken lamp next to the desk. A quick survey failed to reveal that recognizable black cover, so I walked around the desk and scanned the books on the shelf next to it. The spine of the book she had taken was black and flat, like the cover of a binder. I didn’t see anything like that.

  “Well?” Blake said impatiently. “Where’s this proof?”

  “Hang on,” I said. I opened the desk drawers one by one, working my way down from the top. The first drawer was small and contained only pens, notepads, and similar office supplies. The second drawer held several files, one of which was filled with receipts and pay stubs. None of them were what I was looking for. I pulled open the bottom drawer, certain that I would see the black book sitting there. Instead, I found three reams of printer paper and a cartridge of ink. I tossed them aside and found myself staring into an empty drawer.

  “All right, you’ve had your fun,” Blake said. “If there was anything here, you’d have found it by now.”

  “I don’t understand,” I said, throwing my gaze around the room. “It has to be here. Unless she went back to her room, but she couldn’t have. We were outside, watching the whole time-”

  “You wanna search her room now?” he said in an incredulous voice. “You’ve got to be kidding, lady. We’re probably already breaking the law.”

  “It’s here somewhere,” I said. “I know it is. It has to be.”

  “You’re grasping at straws. I think we just need to leave it to the cops… the real cops.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” I said. “While we’re at it, we can talk to the sheriff about that gun you pulled on me earlier. You know, the one you’ve been carrying illegally?”

  “I’ve got a permit.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because you’re from Georgia if I’m not mistaken, and even if you do have a permit there, California doesn’t recognize concealed carry permits from other states. Most people who live here can’t even get one.”

  “So what? The sheriff won’t care about that.”

  “Are you sure? He’ll be investigating the murder of two people -one of whom you were doing business with- when he finds out you’ve been carrying an illegal firearm. I don’t know Blake… you seem pretty guilty to me.”

  “Baloney. I have an alibi.”

  “Really? What’s that?”

  “I was alone, in my room.”

  I couldn’t help smiling. “That’s not an alibi. That’s the opposite of an alibi.”

  “Whate
ver. I can prove that I didn’t have a motive.”

  “How can you prove that?”

  “In my briefcase. I have papers that prove I was about to make a lot of money flipping this property.”

  “Flipping?” I leaned forward over the desk. “What are you talking about? I thought you were buying this land for an investment group.”

  “If I tell you, you have to swear to secrecy,” he said. “I’m not joking. This is serious business.”

  “All right.”

  “I don’t work for an investment group. I am an investment group. I make money finding distressed properties, adding them to my portfolio, then reselling them to foreign investors.”

  “What kind of foreign investors?”

  “Dignitaries, mostly. Saudi princes, movie stars, and politicians from all over Europe; people like that. You’d be amazed what some folks will pay for the right piece of land.”

  “But what do they use it for?”

  “Sometimes, it’s an investment. They develop properties and sell them a few years down the road. Other times, they want an exotic getaway, something that gives them bragging rights, like a ranch in Montana or a resort on the Lost Coast.”

  “Who were you going to resell this property to?”

  “I happen to know some investors from China who’ve been looking for a place exactly like this. We’ve already agreed on a price -all cash, of course, no escrow, no impounds, no oversight. As soon as I had the deed in hand, I would have turned it over.”

  “How much money were you going to make on the deal?”

  “About forty million,” he said with a sly grin.

  My jaw dropped.

  “But that deal’s history now,” he said. “Any chance I had of buying this land flew out the window the minute Charlotte was murdered.”

  “Are you sure? The probate judge might still honor the sale agreement-”

  “There won’t be any probate,” he said with a wave of his hand. “This property will now go to that crazy bag of nuts up the hill.”

  “Gerard? He’s on title?”

  “Doesn’t have to be. Him and Charlotte never finalized their divorce. He refused to sign the papers. He can tie this up in court for years.”