A Treasure to Die For (A Seaside Cove Bed & Breakfast Mystery Book 1)

by Terry Ambrose

  “Tsk, tsk. Once she understands the importance, she’ll be happy to help. You’re being taken advantage of, Rick. Captain Jack ran a tight ship. His weakness was women, but he employed no slackers.”

  “He hired Marquetta and sent her to school.” Rick didn’t mean to, but he crossed his arms and narrowed his gaze at Francine. How could she even think Marquetta didn’t pull her weight? Rick’s phone chimed. He recognized Marquetta’s ringtone. “Excuse me,” he said as he backed away, thankful for the interruption. The call had likely prevented him from saying something he’d regret later.

  Next to him, Alex clanked her spoon in the dish one last time, then set it on the counter and picked up her small grocery bag. “Thank you Mrs. Carter, your ice cream is the best.”

  Rick turned away to answer Marquetta’s call. “Hey, what’s up?”

  “Nothing good, I’m afraid.”

  Marquetta’s voice sounded shaky. Very unlike her. Rick hunched forward and whispered. “You sound upset.”

  “A couple of the guests found Jim Gordon’s body down by the bay. You need to get back here right away before they kill each other.”

  “Wait, wait.” Rick glanced over his shoulder. Gordon was dead? Thank goodness Alex was talking to Francine. His daughter wouldn’t hear the conversation, but Francine probably would. She was obviously multitasking—eavesdropping with one side of her brain while she chitchatted with the other. That meant any questions he asked now would raise her suspicions. “I can be there in a few minutes, but can you clarify what’s going on for me?”

  “The guests, Rick. Mr. Kalstone found Mr. Gordon’s body on the rocks. Now they’re all down there messing with the body and accusing each other of murder.”

  Chapter 7

  ALEX

  My dad looks kinda mad. He’s got his scrunchy face on. It sounds like he’s talking to Marquetta, but she usually makes him laugh and now he looks real serious. I wanna ask him what’s wrong, but Mrs. Carter’s bell rings. It’s a man and a woman. They look young. And real happy. Like they just got married or something. They’re probably from out of town cause Mrs. Carter is acting all sweet to them. She does that with visitors.

  “Let’s go, Alex. Francine has customers, and our groceries are getting warm.” My dad puts away his phone and his jaw puckers.

  I look up at him outside Mrs. Carter’s shop. “Are you mad at me, Daddy? Did I do something wrong?”

  Before he can answer, Deputy Cunningham drives by. He’s got the red lights on and his siren makes me want to cover my ears.

  “Something bad happened at the B&B. We have to hurry back.”

  “What, Daddy?” He starts walking, but I stop, not sure I can take another step until I know. Is it Marquetta? I bite my lower lip to hold back the tears. “Is Marquetta okay?”

  “She’s fine, kiddo.” My dad smiles at me. “That was her on the phone. It’s Mr. Gordon. He’s dead. The guests are all down at the shore.”

  Mr. Gordon is dead? Wow. That’s messed up. We walk faster, but by the time we get to the next corner I’ve got a plan. This could be really good. It’ll let my dad do what makes him happy—investigate.

  “Are you gonna help Deputy Cunningham, Daddy?”

  “What? No, of course not. Why would you ask that?”

  “Cause everybody knows Deputy Cunningham isn’t a real cop.”

  “Let’s go.” My dad huffs and gives me “the dad” look. “The deputy is a sworn officer.”

  “He reads water meters! He doesn’t know what to do.”

  “That doesn’t make him less official. Besides, who told you such a thing?”

  “All the kids at school. Robbie Sachetti says the chief has short-timers and Deputy Cunningham has no-timers.”

  “We need to get home. And Alex, you and I are having a long talk tonight.”

  Chapter 8

  RICK

  The moment Rick and Alex walked through the front door, Alex looked up and asked, “Daddy, can I see the dead guy?”

  “No. Absolutely no way.”

  She walked away with her shoulders slumped, carrying her grocery bag into the kitchen. Rick followed and placed his bag on the counter next to Alex’s as he gazed out the window. Deputy Adam Cunningham was balancing himself on a craggy, moss-covered boulder gesturing for the guests to move away. But each time he turned his back on one person, another slipped behind him.

  Rick’s jaw fell as he squinted at the scene in the distance. “What are those people doing?”

  “They’re looking for Mr. Gordon’s piece of the map! I can’t believe this. Adam is so over his head, Rick. You’ve got to help him out.”

  “Good grief.” Rick strode out the door to help with crowd control. He crossed the patio to the path which led to the shore. He wasn’t even halfway there when the deputy caught his eye and waved frantically. Rick trotted the rest of the distance.

  “Hey, you…” Deputy Cunningham yelled at a man who was inching toward the victim.

  “That’s Cadman Richardson,” Rick said. “He’s Jim Gordon’s former business partner.” Rick raised his voice so the others would hear him over the sound of the surf. “All of you need to line up over here by me or Deputy Cunningham will arrest you for tampering with a crime scene. Won’t you, Deputy?”

  Adam seemed torn. He hesitated for a moment before appearing to make up his mind. “Rick’s right,” he barked. “This is a crime scene and how the victim died has not been determined. Therefore, anyone going near the victim will be arrested for interfering in a police investigation.” He planted his hands on his belt buckle and spread his feet shoulder-width apart. “That applies to you, too, Mr. Richardson.”

  Finally, thought Rick. Deputy Adam Cunningham actually sounded like a cop. The crime-scene talk was probably all BS. Gordon had most likely slipped, hit his head, and bled to death. However, it never hurt to be cautious, and these idiots needed to show a little respect. “Right. Everybody get over here by me.”

  Rick waited as his guests glumly filed over one-by-one to stand next to him. Heath Santiago was the last to fall in line. It wasn’t the most even row he’d ever seen, but it would do. At least they were no longer contaminating any possible evidence.

  “Let me get a few preliminary photos.” Rick pulled out his cell phone, instinctively doing what he’d done for years when reporting as R.J. Atwood in New York. He turned on the camera, shot an overview photo of the entire scene, then stopped and eyed the wet corpse.

  Face down, sprawled across the rocks, it looked as though he might have died instantly. But, why were the clothes dripping wet? The body couldn’t have washed up on those rocks because the tide was low. Besides, Gordon had been alive during high tide this morning.

  Rick leaped from one rock to the next until he was about ten feet from his previous position. He took another photo. As he focused on the shot, he noticed a wound on the back of the head. There were only two possible solutions. The first was some weird weather anomaly—Jim Gordon could have fallen into the ocean, drowned, and then a mini-tsunami could have tossed his battered body onto those rocks. No that was an unlikely scenario. More like, impossible. Which left one other option. This was murder.

  He approached slowly, taking more pictures with each step. When he finished, he looked at Adam. “I’ll share these, but you may want to take your own, too.”

  Deputy Cunningham glanced around the scene before pointing to a black nylon bag a short distance away. “I was in such a hurry to get everyone away from the body when I got here that I just dropped it on the sidewalk.” He hopscotched the rocks until he reached the sidewalk.

  “Everybody stay where you are,” Rick snapped when Mr. Richardson stepped out of line. He stared at each one and they all, except for Mr. Santiago, averted their gaze.

  He waited while Adam knelt and unpacked his camera bag. The onshore breeze was gusting at about 15-25 mph. Under other circumstances, it would be refreshing. Not here, not now.

  When Deputy Cunningham returned, R
ick lowered his voice. He did not want the others hearing this conversation. “Where’s the chief?”

  “Del’s off sick and the chief is at some fancy training seminar the mayor sent him to.”

  Terrific. Alex had been right about the deputy. He split his time between reading water meters, doing the billing, and police work. The poor guy had never handled this kind of investigation. “Have you thought about calling for assistance, Adam? What about bringing in the sheriff? This should be documented properly—what if there was foul play? If you don’t do everything by the book, the evidence could be thrown out of court.”

  Adam winced and glanced at the body. “I don’t know.”

  “At the very least we should be meticulous until a medical professional certifies the cause of death.”

  “I know, but Mayor Carter doesn’t want outside interference.”

  “Interference? I hardly think help from the sheriff would be seen as—wait, when did she tell you this?”

  The deputy blew out a breath as he eyed Gordon’s body. “The chief gave me specific instructions to call her if anything big happened, so I did. I called before I left the station. She said you might help out.”

  “Me? I was a reporter, not a cop.” Rick groaned. Mayor Francine Carter ran the town the same way she did Scoops & Scones, on a whim fueled by plenty of gossip. He shouldn’t be surprised she wanted him to consult on a murder. “Have you ever conducted an investigation? Of any type?”

  “I…um…took a night class after I got hired. The town paid for the class, but Mayor Carter said I shouldn’t get too fancy because I might educate myself out of a job.”

  Rick breathed deeply as he peered at the house. Alex and Marquetta were watching from the kitchen window. He knew what they’d say—help out. “Tell you what, Adam, let’s get all of this documented. I can escort them inside and we’ll do our best to keep them under control until you’re done out here. After that, you can interview as many of them as you want.”

  He stood back and looked from the guests up to the house. He’d never heard of a single murder happening in Seaside Cove. And now, the impossible had happened, right here at the B&B.

  The question was, what would he do about it?

  Chapter 9

  RICK

  It didn’t take long to herd the guests into the dining room. It was Rick’s job to stand in the corner and ensure they didn’t compare notes about Gordon’s death. None of them appeared to be in a talking mood, making the job simple enough. After what he’d seen at breakfast, he wasn’t sure anyone in this room liked even one of the others. Miss Potok and Miss Kelley seemed pleasant enough, but Hayden Kalstone—wow—what a jerk. And then there was the confrontation downtown between Cadman and Mr. Gordon. According to Francine, it had almost turned violent, which meant there was no love lost between those two either.

  Rick knew little about the other three—Brad Luhan, Heath Santiago, and Mark Joshua—other than they’d also been scouring the area around the body. Did any of these people have a brain? Or were they so focused on that map they’d do anything to find it?

  Marquetta brought in water and glasses. She served each guest before leaving quietly. Rick checked the time. Adam was taking longer than he’d expected, but Rick wouldn’t let the group go until they’d all given the deputy their statements. As the minutes ticked by, Rick kept picturing Gordon’s body—clothes wet as though he’d been in the ocean.

  He muttered, “So who found him?”

  “Hayden,” Monica said.

  Rick started at her comment. He hadn’t even realized he’d asked the question out loud. Her answer, however, was consistent with what Marquetta had told him on the phone. “Were you alone, Mr. Kalstone?”

  “No.”

  “We were on the patio.” Monica swiped away the tears on her cheeks. “Hayden tried to save him. He gave CPR.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second,” Heath snarled, then turned on Hayden. “You hated Jim. Why would you want to help him?”

  “I didn’t hate him,” Hayden shot back. “I wondered what drove him. He was a man obsessed.”

  “You’re the man obsessed,” Mark glanced at Rick. “Hayden’s always pretending to be so dispassionate about things, but he’s easily as greedy as the rest of this bunch.”

  “Oh, and you’re not?” Monica snapped before she pinned Reese with a vicious sneer. “And her, she’s a lying slut. She raised her skirt for anyone who told her they’d lead her to the San Manuel.”

  “Get over yourself, Monica.” Reese scowled at her. “I did solid research and didn’t do it on my back like you.”

  “That’s not what Jim said.” Monica snickered as she sat back in her chair, a self-satisfied grin.

  “Enough,” Rick barked. “I’m sorry I asked. You people are to sit here quietly and not speak at all. Got it?”

  The group turned sullen, nodded, and avoided looking at each other. Marquetta appeared in the doorway and gestured for Rick to approach. He went to her, but made sure the others knew he was still watching.

  She leaned toward him and whispered. “Adam needs to ask you a question.”

  Rick glared at the treasure hunters. “Nobody moves or talks. Marquetta will keep an eye on you. The first person to speak will spend the night in jail.” As he walked away, Rick wondered if the town even had a jail. He’d never heard of one. Nor did he have any desire to visit.

  Deputy Cunningham stood at the edge of the patio, a short distance beyond the Adirondack chairs where Rick encountered Mr. Gordon earlier. The memory sent a chill down Rick’s spine. How quickly a man could die. “Hey, Adam. Marquetta said you had a question.”

  “She told me these treasure hunters all have rooms booked for a couple more days. Is that right?”

  “Sure is. Why?”

  “I wanted to make sure you can keep them here. I told them they couldn’t leave town yet.”

  “Looks like we’ll have to work for our money then.” Rick winked at Adam and chuckled. He thought it was kind of funny. After all, he wasn’t being paid to help. But Adam apparently didn’t see the humor and a few seconds of silence followed.

  Finally, the deputy said, “What do I do with the body? I can’t…just leave it. The tide’s coming in. It’ll wash away. The mayor doesn’t want me calling for help, and like I said, the chief is out of town, and Del is down with the flu. He’s the senior officer, so I’m in a real jam.”

  Rick gazed down to the shore and sighed. The deputy was right. With the tide on its way in, they had to act quickly or the wave action would wash away any possible evidence. Even the body might be swept out to sea if the tide rose high enough. This was where New York cops had a huge advantage. They dealt with crime scenes all the time. Everybody had an assigned task. Poor Adam was in the worst possible position. There was only one thing Rick could do if he ever wanted to look himself in the eye again.

  He took the deputy’s shoulder and guided him toward the shore. “You’re right, Adam. We need to act fast. Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  Chapter 10

  ALEX

  June 17

  Hey Journal,

  This really sucks.

  I got put in a time out. Marquetta caught me watching Miss Potok and Miss Kelley argue over something. She made me come up to my room. I tried to tell Marquetta that they didn’t like each other, but she wouldn’t listen. She said this murder thing was grownup business and I shouldn’t be spying on the guests.

  She also said Daddy might help Deputy Cunningham. After what he said to Mrs. Carter about spending more time with me, I bet he might like it if I help out.

  I’m gonna do some investigating on my own. But I don’t wanna get caught again so I need a lookout. I’m texting Robbie Sachetti to come over. Everybody’s gonna think me and Robbie are just playing, but we’re gonna help solve the case. Nobody pays attention to us kids so we’ll be, like, invisible. Daddy’s gonna be super proud when he finds out. It’s gonna be awesome. Just like it was in Ne
w York when I helped him write his stories.

  Alex

  Chapter 11

  RICK

  Rick’s plan to keep Deputy Cunningham out of hot water with Mayor Carter was simple. He’d have the deputy guard the body while Rick called for an ambulance. Once the medical professionals certified the death, an avalanche of bureaucracy would begin to slide downhill. Even the mayor couldn’t stop something that big once it started.

  He and the deputy searched the surrounding area for clues to how Jim Gordon died, but they found none. No big shock there as far as Rick was concerned. By the time Deputy Cunningham finished taking statements from each of the guests, there was still nothing definitive. With any luck, an examination of the body would provide something more concrete than “he’s dead.”

  Rick stood at the French doors staring out beyond the back patio. The walls suddenly felt restrictive; he needed fresh air. Alex was in her room and Marquetta finishing preparations for tomorrow’s breakfast.

  With each of his footsteps on the hardwood floor toward Marquetta, his pulse raced faster. When she glanced up at him, he knew he had to do this before he lost his courage.

  “Can we go outside for a few minutes and talk?”

  “Let me put these loaves away and I’m done.”

  With the bread stored for the following day, they went outside and stood silently. Rick let the serene atmosphere soak in. Neither said a word until he nudged her in the side. “You’re an amazing cook. Did you learn all that in school?”

  “Most of it. Some came from my mom. I’m also sort of a mad scientist. I like experimenting with ingredients. When it works, it’s great. When it doesn’t, well, not so much.”

  “You’ve never produced a bad meal here.” Rick caught himself watching her.

  “Let’s call any experimenting I do on the job tame.”

  They both laughed. The sound of her laugh made him want to ask his questions even more. He needed to do it while they were on the subject.