Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  “Can I get you a cup of coffee…Bonnie, is it?” she asked.

  “It’s Bunny, I’m afraid. I would love a cup of coffee. Shall I get it myself?”

  “Sure. The pot’s just in the kitchen through that door. Help yourself to the cream. It’s in the little fridge. Sugar’s on the counter by the mugs.”

  It was a windblown and discouraged Bunny who returned to the parsonage that evening.

  There didn’t seem to be a suitable rental available in the entire town.

  She was not willing to consider another remote cabin.

  Naidenne promised to keep looking and let her know if anything turned up.

  Bunny stopped in at her former landlord’s place to see about getting her deposit refunded. She was forfeiting a month’s rent in lieu of notice and she needed the money from her security deposit to get into another home. She’d also hoped he might have another rental available.

  Bunny was devastated when the cabin’s owner told her the door and window repairs, plus patching the bullet hole in the wall, would use up her full deposit.

  There would be nothing left to refund.

  Somehow, Bunny had not realized the vandalism would be considered her responsibility.

  If her renter’s insurance would cover the expenses, she might still be okay, but there would be a delay in seeing any money, she was sure.

  Bunny tried to lift her spirits by spending the next couple of hours working on her nascent romance novel.

  As Captain Prescott pulled the lovely Lady Arabella into the dingy from the sea, where she had been desperately clinging to wreckage from their ship, he could not avoid noticing the way her flimsy nightgown clung to her shapely form.

  The sodden gown only served to highlight her rosy nipples and the dark delta below. His loins stirred in spite of the desperation of the situation.

  The semi-conscious woman clung to him, pressing her full, ripe breasts against his muscular chest, further inflaming his manly desire….

  “Phooey! I just can’t do it.”

  Bunny sat back from her keyboard in disgust.

  “I can’t pander like that, just to sell a book. Guess I’ll never be a successful author.”

  Bunny closed the romance novel file and opened her folder of ideas for non-fiction articles, hoping to cleanse her mind and restore her integrity.

  When Bunny shared her house-hunting frustrations with her host and hostess at dinner that evening, they both assured her, with varying degrees of sincerity, that she was welcome to stay with them in the parsonage as long as necessary until she was able to get into a place of her own.

  Bunny was grateful, but still determined to leave as soon as she could. She would just need to increase her income, somehow. To that end, she retired to her room right after dinner to work on her writing projects.

  As she opened her laptop, thinking of ways to sanitize the swashbuckling romance she had begun, she was reminded of the sea chest that had inspired it. With everything that had happened she never really got a chance to examine it properly.

  She had planned to work on an uninteresting instruction manual that evening, but she gave in to the temptation to postpone it and retrieved the chest from her car, instead.

  When she came back inside she poked her head into the living room.

  “Rosamund, excuse me, but do you have some furniture polish I can borrow? I found this small chest on the beach the other day and I would like to clean it up a bit and see if it might be salvageable.”

  “Why Bunny, that’s quite a charming little cask. I know quite a bit about antiques, you know. You don’t want to clean it up too much. Patina is everything, in the antiques business. Put it on the coffee table here, so I can get a better look.”

  Bunny placed the chest on the table and Rosamund inspected it in what seemed to be a very professional manner.

  “Look, there are still pieces of the original rope handles in the brass beckets. You don’t usually see that.”

  She tried to open the lid to complete her inspection, “It’s locked. I don’t suppose you found the key, too, did you?”

  “I imagine that was lost years ago. Who knows how long this was in the water before it washed up on our beach?”

  “Chances are that it came from whatever ship must have sunk off the coast just a few days ago. The one that poor little drowned girl came from.”

  “What’s that? I hadn’t heard about a shipwreck. I did see a commotion on the beach near Ramparts Rock the day I discovered the chest. Was that where they found the girl?”

  “Yes, I think so. She was Asian, not more than ten or twelve, according to the news reports. They don’t really know where she came from. There were no official reports of any boats going down around here and no one has reported her missing, but she hadn’t been in the water very long, so she couldn’t have drifted far. For some reason the coroner doesn’t think she could have washed into the sea from a local river.”

  “How awful that no one has reported her missing…unless her whole family was lost in that storm…but even then, surely someone would notice their disappearance.”

  “Neighborhoods aren’t what they used to be, Bunny. People can become truly isolated right in the middle of a bustling city, especially if they don’t belong to a church family or other community group. Right here in Bannoch many folks don’t even know their neighbor’s name.”

  Rosamund got up and went to the utility room and began rummaging around in the cupboard over the washer.

  “I’ve got just the thing for that chest, Bunny!” she called, and returned with a jar of beeswax furniture cleaner and a handful of soft rags that she thrust into Bunny’s hands.

  Rosamund spread the classified section of the newspaper on the dining table and, with a flourish, pulled out a chair for Bunny.

  There was nothing for Bunny to do but place the chest on the paper and get on with the cleaning.

  Dipping a soft cloth into the jar, she couldn’t help noticing that it had once been a pair of men’s undershorts. It was a weird sensation to be handling what she was sure had once been her pastor’s skivvies, but she forced herself to ignore the history of her cleaning rag and focus on the chest, instead.

  After firmly settling her houseguest to work, Rosamund went back to her reading.

  While cleaning the chest, Bunny noticed the For Rent ads in the newspaper on the table and began to cast about in her mind for some way to increase her income quickly in order to move into a place of her own. The Miscellaneous Wanted and For Sale notices gave her an idea.

  “About how much do you think this chest might be worth, Rosamund? I mean after I get it cleaned up a bit.”

  “I’ve seen similar pieces go for as much as $1,200. Small sea chests are not as common as the large ones. If the original interior is intact, that chest might bring a good price. I can see from the little area you have managed to rub clean that it still has some of its original red paint. That’s a good sign.”

  “I wonder how I can get it open without doing any damage. I could use some extra money for my move, so I might try to sell it.”

  “We have a retired locksmith in the congregation. I’ll bet that Jack Griffith could open it for us! I’ll call him, right now.”

  “Wait, Rosamund. It’s a bit late to call tonight. I can ask him at church tomorrow and arrange to take it to him, if he thinks he can help. I’m a little tired tonight. ”

  Bunny gathered up the chest and cleaning materials, bid Rosamund, “Good night,” and retired to her room.

  She had not been just making an excuse. The recent events were catching up with her and Bunny was drained.

  Any further work on her writing project or cleaning the chest would have to wait.

  Before going to bed Bunny had a quiet bath in the handicap-equipped tub and was actually grateful for the grab bars when she climbed out.

  Tonight she felt even older than Rosamund seemed to think she was.

  Chapter Six

  You’ve de
ceived me, and you’ve carried off my daughters like captives in war. – Genesis 31:26

  Bunny was on tiptoe, stretching to reach the closet rod to put away her choir robe after the Sunday service.

  Slipping into the familiar garment before church had been like getting a welcoming hug from an old friend.

  She was beginning to feel like part of this little group of singers, already. It had been comforting before worship when so many of them expressed concern about her prowler.

  Pastor Davidson had requested prayers for the family of the little drowned girl during the service, so speculation about that incident was still on everyone’s mind.

  From inside the closet Bunny could hear snatches of conversations among the other choir members as they disrobed and cleared up the music folders.

  “Do you suppose a pleasure boat carrying a whole family went down?”

  “She was Asian, wasn’t she? I’ll bet it was an overloaded boat of North Korean refugees.”

  “Maybe her father was the captain on a tanker and she slipped overboard while traveling with him.”

  “She probably got caught in a sneaker wave on a beach along the coast a ways and just washed up here.”

  “Have they had any more tsunamis in Japan? Lots of stuff makes it to our beaches after one of those things.”

  “It sure is curious that no one has reported the little thing missing.”

  Bunny’s heart ached when she thought about that little girl’s lifeless body lying on the beach that day while she sat watching the rescue workers with such detachment.

  Thanks to modern communications, we can’t avoid hearing about the many tragedies happening every day. It was overwhelming sometimes, but had it made her hard-hearted?

  Bunny knew she was not an innately compassionate person and she struggled to overcome it, along with her many other character flaws, but she feared she wasn’t making much progress.

  Like many writers, Bunny was often an observer of life rather than an active participant. There were instances when even her own life seemed like a story she was narrating to herself.

  “Hey, Bunny. Rosamund said you had a locksmith job for me. Said something about a treasure chest?” Jack Griffith commented over her shoulder while hanging his own robe on the rack.

  “Looks like you’re a little too short on one end,” he grinned, taking Bunny’s robe from her and securing the hanger over the bar as he teased good naturedly.

  “Thanks! I did find a small chest, Jack. It’s locked and I don’t have the key. I don’t want to impose, but do you think you might be able to open it? I’ll gladly pay you for your services.”

  “Don’t be silly! Of course, I can open it. I’m happy to keep my hand in. Tell you what; why don’t you come for dinner tonight and bring the box. Pastor and Rosamund are coming, so you can ride over with them.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t want to impose. Don’t you need to check with Shirley, first?”

  Jack laughed, “No way. My wife always fixes enough food for a football team. She loves company. The more the merrier. You just come tonight and bring your little treasure chest. Shirley will be tickled to have another friendly face at the table.”

  A man with a decidedly unfriendly face was scurrying down the murky alley in Thailand as quickly as his ungainly burden would allow.

  “Stop wriggling, chicken!” he snarled to the small woman thrown over his shoulder, cuffing her hard.

  She was wrapped in a dirty piece of canvas with only the top of her head showing. Her feet, bound at the ankles and poking out of one end of the bundle, had been fretting against her bindings, but now stilled.

  A black shape emerged from a shadowy doorway nearby. The glow from a cigarette briefly illuminated a craggy face and unkempt black beard.

  “What have you got there, Wang? Not another used up old hag like you tried to palm off on me, like last time, I hope. I told you Koslov will pay only for prime merchandise. Even after losing that last batch to the sea, he is not so desperate as to take your cast-offs.”

  “You will like this one, I promise. She is still quite young, only in my brother’s brothel a short time when I snatched her up for you. I took one look at her and knew she was fit for the U.S. market.”

  “Well, get her in here, quickly. I will decide for myself what she’s fit for.” So saying, he led the way into the building and slammed the door shut, locking it behind him.

  Scott went on a round of calls to the church shut-ins right after lunch and Rosamund retired to her room for a nap.

  Bunny finished polishing the sea chest in the quiet parsonage and then took her laptop out to the little screened porch to work on her writing. The light was better there than in her room.

  A parsonage is a house owned by the church and provided to the pastor as part of his wages. This one was a large older home, difficult to heat and keep clean, built at a time when pastors tended to have many children and a wife who stayed at home to care for them.

  Bannoch Community Fellowship was in the minority of churches still providing a parsonage for their minister. The modern trend was to either pay a living wage, or provide a salary plus a separate housing stipend that would allow the pastor to buy a home and build equity toward retirement.

  Bunny wished the churches Eustace served had been more up-to-date in that regard. She might have had a home to live in after his death, instead of being forced to vacate the parsonage while still reeling from shock at his murder. The church leaders had been eager to remodel the house for the next pastor and gave little thought to the recent relict of their last one.

  Joining a congregation doesn’t guarantee a change in a person’s basic nature, unfortunately, and a great many unkind things can be done to a pastor by the flock in his care. Even with the best motives, a church family can be just as dysfunctional and insensitive as any other family.

  There’s an old joke passed around among pastors that their church would be perfect, if only it had no people in it. “Nothing a few good funerals couldn’t fix,” was not always spoken in jest.

  That evening Shirley seemed as happy to have Bunny join the dinner party as her husband had predicted. Bunny was made to feel like a welcome part of the family from the moment she entered the Griffith home.

  Shirley served a tender pot roast cooked with root vegetables and served over homemade noodles, a salad of mixed greens, and lemon meringue pie for dessert. While there may not have been enough for a football team, there was plenty for the six of them and a few more besides.

  Jack tenderly fed Sharon her dinner then cleared the table while Shirley settled her mother for the night. It was obvious that this couple had perfected a loving routine for seeing to the needs of the elderly lady.

  Bunny admired the Griffiths more and more as she got better acquainted with them.

  Every church she and Eustace served had such precious people in the congregation. Although usually in the minority, they were the ones who made the pastoral ministry such a blessing and offset all the challenges.

  Their offers to help clear up having been declined, Bunny and the Davidsons took their coffee into the rustic family room, just off the kitchen.

  It was only a short time before Jack rejoined them.

  Bunny was admiring a beautiful seascape painted on the blade of a two-handled cross-cut saw hanging above the fireplace.

  “This is lovely, Jack, is it hand-painted?”

  “Shirley did it. Daft woman likes to dab paint on old farm equipment. I don’t dare leave a tool lying around or the next time I see the thing it’s covered with daisies and doodahs! So where’s this treasure chest, Bunny? Let me at it!”

  Bunny retrieved her box from the entryway credenza where she’d left it and handed it to Jack.

  “Do you think you can open that lock?”

  “They don’t make ‘em like this, anymore, that’s for sure. But then, they don’t make ‘em like me, anymore, either. Yep. I can open it. I just need to get a few little things. Be right b
ack.”

  When he returned with his tools Jack was as good as his word and had the chest unlocked in a matter of moments. He didn’t open the lid, but handed it to Bunny for her to do the honors.

  “What’s inside, Bunny? Open it, open it,” Rosamund urged impatiently, sitting on the edge of her chair. She looked as though she might snatch the thing out of Bunny’s hands if it wasn’t opened quickly enough.

  Bunny held the box on her lap for a minute or two, savoring the anticipation. Smiling, she gave in to the temptation to tease Rosamund, just a bit.

  “Before I open it, let’s try to guess what might be inside. And I want to wait so Shirley can play, too.”

  Rosamund groaned in annoyance at Bunny’s words.

  “Bunny’s got your number, already, Rosie,” Scott laughed at his sister.

  “Don’t tell me she’s another tease, just like you, Scott. That’s all I need!”

  Jack joined in the raillery and the four were laughing when Shirley came into the room.

  “What’s so hilarious? Is there something funny in the box?” Shirley asked as she sat next to her husband, drawing her feet up under her and throwing one arm casually over his shoulder.

  “Bunny here wants us to play a guessing game to see who can come closest to what’s in the box before she opens it.”

  “Oh, good idea! I love games. Do we need pencils and paper?” Shirley asked enthusiastically.

  “Oh, I don’t think we need to keep score. I just thought it would be fun to try to guess what might be inside before I open it and all the mystery is gone.”

  “Yes, let’s! I’ll go first! I will guess that it’s a pirate’s treasure map. What do you want to guess, Jack?”

  “Well, now, staying out of Fantasyland for the moment, I’d say that from the looks of it, that chest is old, but I could tell the lock has been opened fairly recently, so I’m going to guess it will be full of fish hooks and lures and the like. I think it accidentally dropped from some fellow’s fishing boat. How about you, Pastor?”