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

by Terry Ambrose

  Chapter 33

  RICK

  Rick sat behind his desk, reclining in the plush leather chair that had once been Captain Jack’s. He couldn’t avert his eyes from the top left drawer of the desk.

  The key to why he was so down lay inside.

  It symbolized so much, and so little.

  He slid the drawer open.

  Inside, there were a few pens and pencils, a stapler, and a box of paperclips. And next to those, it lay.

  He swallowed hard and picked up the three-inch strand of bright red yarn.

  His cheeks burned with the memory as he held it. It was the first thing she’d given him.

  She’d tied it around his finger on his second day when he’d forgotten to refill the upstairs coffee carafes. Marquetta probably thought he’d thrown it out or lost it long ago. But, for some silly reason, he hadn’t. He’d placed that little piece of yarn in his drawer for safekeeping. Each day he saw it—and her. Leaning in close. Tying the ends into a bow. Smiling at him in a way that captured his heart.

  He couldn’t imagine throwing it, or her, away.

  A gentle knock jarred the vision from his thoughts. Rick put the yarn back in its place and cleared his throat. “Yes?”

  Slowly, the door opened and a white handkerchief appeared. He recognized the hand holding it immediately.

  “Come in,” he said softly.

  Marquetta stuck her head through the opening. “I came to apologize for blowing up at you.”

  “No.” Rick raised both hands. “You had every right. I was in the wrong.”

  “Truce?”

  “Happily,” he whispered. He gestured at the chair in front of his desk.

  Marquetta winced. “I haven’t sat in the hot seat since Captain Jack told me he was dying.”

  Rick sucked in a breath and waited while she eased the door shut and slowly made her way to the chair. They remained silent—he, determined not to pry; she, apparently, not yet ready to abandon her secrets.

  After a while he said, “The hot seat?”

  “It was a little joke between Captain Jack and me.” Marquetta shrugged and let her gaze flit around the room before returning to Rick’s. “He always told me if I had to sit here it was going to be really bad news.”

  Rick shook his head. “No more bad news today. I couldn’t handle it. Have you seen Alex?”

  “She’s the reason I’m here.”

  His muscles tensed. He glanced at the drawer with the yarn stored safely inside. Of course. Alex. Over the course of their time here, he’d encouraged their relationship. Lately, he feared what might happen if he drove Marquetta away. “I see,” he said.

  “She told me she’d been given a time out.”

  The pressure behind his eyes built, and he struggled to sound curious instead of offended. He took a last look at the top left drawer before asking, “Did she tell you why?”

  “She did.”

  “Do you think I was wrong?”

  “Not at all. In fact, I reinforced that she’d made a mistake. But, I did ask her what she learned.”

  Rick recalled his reaction when Alex had confessed. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “I kind of lost it when I found out what she’d done.”

  “I don’t blame you. Something like that might bring on serious repercussions. Nevertheless, you need to know what she discovered since you’re helping Adam. You are still working with him, right?”

  Marquetta leaned forward, obviously waiting. He nodded.

  “Good,” she said. “Alex found a note from Miss Kelley to Mr. Gordon. She thinks they were getting back together. Quite possibly, it’s no more than a young girl romanticizing things, but…” She let the word hang in the air.

  “Alex told me about the note.”

  “But, I don’t think she said anything about Mr. Santiago.”

  His stomach did a flip flop. “I’m afraid we didn’t get beyond Miss Kelley. What did she do to him?”

  “She found what sounds like a collection of news stories about him and Mr. Gordon. From the way Alex described it, he might have been jealous.” Marquetta shrugged. She eased herself forward as though preparing to leave. “I wanted you to know.”

  “Don’t go yet,” he blurted, then bit his lower lip. “That came out wrong,” he stammered. “What I meant was, I’d like to make it up to you.”

  Marquetta’s gray eyes misted over and she swallowed hard. She glanced from side-to-side, then swiped at her cheek with her fingers. “All I’ve ever asked is to be respected. That includes my privacy.”

  Cold permeated every bone in Rick’s body. What had he expected? I love you. I want to be part of your life. No, that was the stuff of a child’s fantasies. Alex might expect it to happen, but he felt—no, knew—deep down, it was too much to ask. He took in a short breath and nodded.

  “You’ve got it.” A moment later, he said, “Can I ask for your impression of what Alex told you?”

  She seemed to ponder the question for a few seconds. “I didn’t see these news stories, so I’m not sure if she got it right. What I have seen is the way Monica glares at Reese all the time. Have you noticed?”

  “All the time? Is that one of those generalities like it’s always foggy in California?” Rick laughed, but stopped when Marquetta gave him a blank stare. “You’re serious,” he said.

  “It’s not constant. But, there’s a definite animosity between those two women. I overheard Miss Kelley on the phone with someone—it sounded like a girlfriend. She was really catty about Miss Potok. She kept going on about how this woman was trying to steal her boyfriend away from her. Miss Kelley strikes me as codependent. She’s very needy, so maybe that’s why she wrote the note. It might have been a last ditch effort to get him back.”

  “Huh. Reese did say Monica wanted to settle down and have a family.”

  “Do you suppose Miss Kelley had reason to suspect Miss Potok was attempting to take away her future husband?”

  “You know what? I need to find out. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Miss Potok?”

  “No, Monica. I’m beginning to suspect the relationship between Reese and Gordon was more than casual.”

  Chapter 34

  RICK

  Rick found Monica down by the water. She stood on the paved walkway, well back from the surging waves, the sea spray, and the murder location. Even from a distance, he could see the mascara-stained tracks left by her tears.

  “Hey, Monica.”

  She flinched and faced him, then wiped her cheeks with the palms of her hands, leaving behind black patches of skin. “Why’d it happen?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to find out. I need your help.”

  “How would I do that? I’m not an investigator.”

  “You might have information.”

  “Such as?”

  “You said you were close to Jim. Were you engaged?”

  “He was going to propose. It just hadn’t happened yet.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because we had a fight.” She glared in the direction of the B&B. “I found out he’d been sleeping with Reese. He said it meant nothing—how cliché. Isn’t that what men always say?”

  Rick paused and considered the parallels to his own disastrous marriage. “I suppose. So that’s why you dislike Reese so much?”

  “Yes. Not only because she’s a slut, but because she lied about it. I thought we were friends. You’d think she would have had the guts to tell me to my face, but I had to hear about it from Brad.”

  “What did he tell you?”

  “That they were having an affair. A liaison, as he called it.”

  “How’d he find out they were involved?”

  She snuck another glance at the B&B. “He’s an incurable gossip.”

  Rick watched the ocean surf roll in for a few seconds. More parallels, he thought. No doubt about it, people liked to talk about other people. When you were the object, it hurt. But, in this case one of the two parties was de
ad and the other keeping secrets. This was one of those times when being plugged into the rumor mill might be of help. Before he went down that path, he needed to determine how reliable Brad’s information was.

  “What did he say?”

  “He—no—this is too much. I’d prefer to be alone if you don’t mind.”

  Rick sighed, cursed his bad luck, but remained determined to press on. “One or two more questions. That’s all. Okay?”

  “Whatever.”

  “You showed me your invitation yesterday at breakfast. Would you let me see it again?”

  For a moment, she looked like she might say no, then she shrugged. “I guess. I was looking at it myself last night.” Monica reached into her bag and handed Rick the envelope she’d shown him at the table.

  “Thanks.” He read the return address. “I thought so. This is Jim’s, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “But the postmark isn’t the same zip code. Did you notice that?”

  Another yes.

  Rick waited as she wrung her hands while she gazed out to sea. When he shifted his weight to the other foot, she seemed to sense the movement and peered at him.

  “That’s Cadman’s zip code,” she said. “I’ll bet he set up this entire weekend. Should I turn this over to the police so they can question him again? I wouldn’t doubt that he and Reese conspired to murder Jim.”

  “Why would Cadman and Reese work together? Better yet, why go to all that trouble?” Assembling eight people just to kill one of them seemed beyond ridiculous—maybe even delusional. Perhaps Monica was grasping for any solution no matter how desperate it might be. “Besides, Cadman has a shoulder injury. He’s not physically able to lift his arm high enough to wield a weapon.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. You haven’t seen him when he’s loaded up on oxy. Wouldn’t be the first time. That’s why he’s got such a terrible memory.”

  “Oxycodone? Are you sure about that?”

  Monica stammered. Her gaze darted away and Rick wondered if she’d created a lie she now found too complex to manage. He was convinced all of these people were lying about one thing or another. What was Monica’s lie?

  Tears trickled down her nose and fell to the pavement as she stared down. Her nod was nothing more than a slight bobbing of her head.

  “How do you know he’s using drugs?” Rick demanded.

  Her fingers flitted to her mouth and came to rest on her neck. “There are signs. Things like he’ll be totally relaxed and out of the blue he’ll go off into one of these moods. Really bad. He said something once about Brad and his shady background.” She hesitated before she continued. “You should be aware that Brad’s as crooked as they come. Jim liked him. At least he used to. He said he made a ton of money off Brad’s stock tips. Then they had some kind of falling out.”

  “Brad Luhan is a stock trader? I thought he was an accountant.”

  “Don’t kid yourself,” Monica snickered. “Brad’s no more of an accountant than you or I. That’s just what he tells people. Brad is the CFO of his own life. He’s a clerk, that’s all. It’s true, he works for an accounting firm, but Brad doesn’t interface with the firm’s clients.”

  Here they went again. She wanted to dish on everyone else. “Where’s this going, Monica?”

  “He sees a lot of information in his job,” she said. She shook her head slowly. “Brad’s no better than a gossip columnist. He’s an expert at trading one little snippet for something bigger. According to Jim, he makes more from insider stock tips than he does from his day job.”

  Rick blew out a slow breath as the fire of uncertainty grew within. There was only one way to put a stop to this. “I want you to come with me to talk to him. All I have is hearsay. You, on the other hand, can take away his ability to BS me.”

  “I can’t do it. Brad can be volatile.”

  Now he was volatile, too? “How so? Could he have murdered Jim?”

  Monica shuddered. “I don’t know. I suppose it’s possible. The thing is, Brad’s an attention getter. He grew up on the wrong side of the tracks.”

  “And that means?”

  “He doesn’t care how others feel. He’s a me-first kind of guy. But I also doubt if he’s cruel or vicious. I mean, Brad’s the guy who will drive across town to take a stray dog to the pound so it can be adopted by a good family. He just makes instant decisions like that. The dog needs help, get him some.”

  “Seriously, Monica? It sounds like you’re reaching. He’s dangerous, he’s volatile, he’s also wonderful. You’re describing the perfect bad boy. How come you didn’t fall in love with him?”

  Rick regretted the words the second they were out of his mouth. But, enough was enough. He let his gaze bore into hers. He didn’t want to argue, but he wasn’t letting her continue this line of—whatever it was. Her jaw tightened until it looked like china ready to shatter.

  “You really are afraid of him, aren’t you?”

  She wrapped her arms around herself and stared at him with watery eyes. “I told you, he can be volatile.”

  “He won’t do anything. I promise.”

  “There’s always later.” Her voice shook as she spoke. “After we leave. Brad knows everything. He could find out—things. Ruin me.”

  “Let’s take it one step at a time. You loved Jim, right?”

  She nodded as another tear flowed down her cheek.

  “Well, don’t you want to know if Brad had something to do with Jim’s death?”

  With a puckered jaw, she seemed to consider how to answer. Rick waited, hoping she’d agree to help. Her breaths came ragged. Short bursts interrupted by chopped-up little bits. “I…I don’t want to get anybody in trouble.”

  “You may have done that already. Look, once I tell Deputy Cunningham about this, you’re involved.”

  The threat seemed to take her by surprise. Her resolve shattered. “The thing is, I’ve never seen Cadman taking drugs. I only know what Brad’s told me. He’s the one who told me Cadman’s memory loss was caused by his oxy addiction.”

  Chapter 35

  RICK

  It didn’t take a genius to realize that Rick’s entire conversation with Monica was a waste of time if she didn’t go with him to see Brad. If she wouldn’t agree to confront the man she was accusing, what was the point?

  “Come with me, Monica.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and glared back at Rick. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To talk to Brad. I’ve had enough of this ‘he said, she said’ crap and intend to put a stop to it right now.”

  “I won’t do it. He might want to take revenge on me.”

  Rick reached out, gripped her shoulders and stared her down. “Would you rather talk to the police? I can arrange that if you want.”

  Her expression turned blank, and she seemed to stare at nothing and everything all at once. Overhead, a pair of seagulls floated on the wind. In the distance, a sailboat cut through ocean whitecaps. And right before him, Monica stood. He hoped his gaze conveyed his need for her help. After she had a chance to think things through, she’d surely hold her silence. Right now, she saw nothing but her grief. Not the birds, the ocean. Not even him. If she didn’t agree now, he risked losing her assistance.

  “You want to see Jim’s killer is caught, don’t you?”

  Rick pressed her with his stare until she glanced away. A moment later, she nodded.

  “Yes,” she croaked.

  “So help me break down some of these walls.”

  Monica sucked in a breath and her color drained. “What are you going to do?”

  Obviously, Bradford Luhan must have violated a host of laws against insider trading. What Rick didn’t understand, or even care about, was how he got away with it. What he did want to know was what Brad’s trading information had to do with Gordon’s death. For that, he needed the same information Gordon had.

  “I intend to invest money with Brad.”

  “What?” She shook her
head. “You don’t want to do that. It’s too risky.”

  “I have no intention of giving him a dime, but he won’t know that. I need you to make the introduction. You’ll also be my insurance he tells me the same thing he told Jim. My intention is to not let him weave another wild story.”

  “But I don’t know what he told Jim.”

  “Brad doesn’t know that. Will you do it?”

  Monica tugged on a strand of hair and stared at it. “Okay, I’ll go.”

  “He’s staying in the Jib Room. Follow me.” Rick led the way, making sure Monica stayed only a few steps behind. At the door to Brad’s room, he waited for her to catch up, then knocked.

  The door opened a few seconds later. Brad rubbed his eyes. He greeted Rick, then Monica. Rick chose to go with the direct route, so without preamble, he launched into his first question.

  “Monica tells me you gave Jim Gordon some good stock tips. How can I invest with you?”

  “Whoa!” Brad raised both hands and glared at Monica. “What tall tales are you telling now, Monica?”

  “She only said you’d done right by Jim.” Rick glanced at her. She appeared to shrink further away as each second ticked by. “Right?”

  “That’s right,” she echoed.

  “The B&B has a little extra money that needs investing,” Rick said. “Let’s face it, I want to make a buck like everyone else.”

  “Hold on, man.” What I do is connect disparate pieces of information. It’s all about the timing. I’ve got sources everywhere.”

  What a line of crap, Rick thought. But he knew he had to work the source, not berate him. “So you’ve got a wide network. Lots of contacts. Sounds like my kind of investment opportunity. I won’t lose money, will I?”

  “Well, the market can be volatile. It’s always a risk. This is as secure as you can get and still make a hefty profit.” He shot a worried glance at Monica.

  Did he expect her to disagree with him? Call him a liar? Better to let him prove it himself with a little more rope. “Thanks, Brad. I’ve got some big expenses coming up and could use a nice fat return. You must have a number of clients. I have to be really sure, can you give me some references?”