Lethal Tide

by Beth Prentice

  "So what does fifteen yellow roses mean?"

  "Good question. Let me get my book, and I'll look it up." With that, she scurried to the adjoining room. I finished my piece of cake while she was gone, so I quickly helped myself to another.

  "Now let me see," she said, returning and sitting next to me. She flipped the pages until she found what she was looking for. "Now color depicts the mood. Yellow…" she said, running her finger down the page. "Yellow means infidelity. That doesn't sound very exciting."

  No, it didn't. It was creepy.

  "What about fifteen?" I added.

  She flipped a few more pages, stopping at the numbers section. "Fifteen means you're truly sorry."

  "So someone anonymously sent me flowers that mean they're truly sorry for an infidelity?"

  "It seems that way. That's not something that happens every day, is it?" Mrs. Rhodes seemed animated with the excitement of it all.

  "No, it's not." Thank goodness. "Did you happen to see anyone putting these at our front door?" If you wanted neighborhood gossip, this was the place to come.

  She shook her head. "No sorry. I didn't. I have been keeping an eye on you, as I knew Rita was away, but this morning my daughter rang me from LA. She's just moved into a new house and was telling me all about it."

  I took another bite of cake, disappointed.

  "But I did see a man walking through your garden a few days ago. I asked him if I could help him with anything, but he said no."

  "What day was that?"

  Mrs. Rhodes looked thoughtful. "Wednesday. Yes, it was Wednesday. I remember because I'd just gotten home from croquet."

  "What do you think he was doing?"

  "He said he was from public works and was checking your meter but I didn't need to worry because it all checked out okay."

  There was nothing wrong with our meter, but that was the day that I had found the back door open.

  "Could you describe him for me?"

  "Not overly tall, blond."

  "Anything distinguishing about him?"

  "No. Not that I can recall. He was very pleasant."

  I wondered if it was John. He wasn't that tall, and he was blond, but then so were a lot of people.

  Shivers ran down my spine. I needed to find out who sent those flowers. If I could do that, I would at least have an idea of who and what I was dealing with.

  "Thinking about those flowers, did the envelope the note came in have the florist's name on it? If so, you could try there," said Mrs. Rhodes.

  That was actually a really good idea. "Thank you. I will." I popped the last few crumbs into my mouth and stood. "I'm sorry to be rude, but I think I should look into it."

  "You're not being rude. You need to follow these things up. I'm sure the sender is harmless, but I can understand your feelings." Mrs. Rhodes stood. "Now take the rest of this cake home. You can drop the serving plate back later."

  No need to tell me twice. I gratefully accepted the plate and made my way home, happy at least in the knowledge that I had the rest of the day's meals sorted out.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The flowers had come from The Happy Florist. We could have phoned them, but we decided a personal visit may just give us more answers. Casey drove through town, past the town square and the church, and parked under a canopy of trees. He unclicked my belt, and we got out and crossed the road to where the florist sat between the fishing store and the gift shop.

  It was such a pretty little shop that I felt calm the second I walked in. In fact, I always thought I could be a florist, spending my day surrounded by things of beauty. Only problem was I didn't have a green thumb. I had black thumbs, if there were such things. And it crossed over to flowers, not just plants. One touch from me and they'd be dead by the end of the day.

  A friendly girl in her twenties approached the counter.

  "Hi, can I help you with anything?" Her smile was large, and I instantly liked her.

  "Yes, please," said Casey, returning her smile.

  It was like I had suddenly become invisible—her sole attention was now on him. "We'd like to know who ordered a bouquet of roses today."

  "Sure, I'll see what I can tell you. You understand though that certain details are confidential. We don't always like to disclose who the sender of flowers is."

  "Really? Why?" I asked.

  Her attention flicked to me as she remembered I was even there. As the blush started at her ears, she said, "Well, some people need discretion."

  "Huh?"

  "Some men don't want their wives to know they're sending flowers to someone other than them," explained Casey. He turned his full attention to her, turning up the charm. "We completely understand. It's just that Samantha received a bouquet this morning, and she wanted to thank the person who sent them."

  "Samantha?" she asked, her nose crinkling in thought.

  "Yep. That's me," I sang.

  "I've only had one delivery for a Samantha today. Fifteen yellow roses."

  "That's it!"

  "I'm sorry. I can't help you. I never saw the person who requested them."

  "What about a name?" asked Casey. "They would have been paid for somehow."

  "That's the strange thing. I opened the store this morning, and there was an envelope pushed under the door. It contained two one-hundred-dollar bills, a note with the order and who they were to go to, and another envelope addressed to Samantha."

  Well, that was no help whatsoever.

  "Do you have security cameras?" I asked, slightly frustrated.

  "Do I look like I can afford security cameras? No, I leave signage on my doors advising that all cash is removed from the premises at night. No one wants to steal flowers."

  "That's it?" asked Casey.

  "Yes sorry." She shrugged apologetically.

  "Thanks anyway," he finished, once again flashing the smile.

  I watched her almost melt on the spot.

  Leaving the shop, I let out a deep, discontented breath. "That was a waste of time," I said.

  "Yeah, we didn't learn much about who the sender was."

  Casey took my hand as we crossed the road back towards the car. "Actually," he said, beeping the doors open. "Do you mind if I call into the fishing store while we're here?"

  I sighed. I hated the fishing store. It was boring. "Sure. I'll sit on the grass under one of those trees and wait for you. The car's too hot." I could also people watch if I sat under the tree, and I loved people watching a heck of a lot more than I loved being in a fishing store.

  Casey smiled, knowing he would enjoy it a lot more without me.

  After he had gone, I made a good choice of a palm tree, sat on the soft green grass, and leaned against it, watching people going about their daily lives.

  It didn't take long for my mind to wander over the last week. What did I know?

  I knew Ryan was looking for a treasure. One he believed existed, but nobody else seemed to. I knew Travis and Veronica had both turned up in town. Why? Veronica didn't know Ryan had been murdered, but did Travis? Had he been the murderer? He'd been AWOL ever since that day Casey saw him though, so maybe he was no longer in Aloha Lagoon, or maybe he took off after murdering Ryan.

  I thought about "John." He wasn't who he said he was. So who was he, and was he the one who had broken into my house and sent me flowers?

  And what about the man with the bulging biceps? How did he fit into this? He looked almost thug-like, so maybe Stephen had sent him to find Ryan. Had he found him? If he had, then why was he still around Aloha Lagoon? Maybe his job was also to find the treasure. In which case, was he the one who was in Ryan's room while I hid in the cupboard, and did he take the journal? I added search for treasure to my mental list of things to do. Not that I had a lot to go on, but a look around couldn't hurt, and I may just learn a few things that would help me answer these questions. But then again, if Ryan had been killed looking into the treasure, then it may not be good for my health.

  I also needed to
go through the files on the flash drive again to try to figure out who Stephen was. I was sure Detective Ray was already onto that, but it wouldn't hurt to learn that either.

  I tried to relax and enjoy the scenery by watching a group of people standing in a huddle admiring a street artist chalk draw on the cement sidewalk. Their oohs and ahhs drifted towards me, so I decided to have a little look at what he was sketching.

  As I approached, the crowd thinned, allowing me to get up close. The drawing was breathtaking. It was of the ocean, a surfer riding a wave as the dolphins frolicked around him. Geez, some people were talented. As I threw some coins into the hat he used to collect money from appreciative observers, I noted a man standing back leaning against a tree, watching me.

  It was "John."

  My heart stopped as he smiled, gave me a little wave, and then turned to walk away. He crossed the road, dodging cars as he went.

  I couldn't let him go. I needed to know who he was and why he was sending me flowers—if indeed it was him sending them. He'd seemed harmless enough during our lesson, in which case he wouldn't hurt me, would he?

  My feet had already started to move, following him across the road. He was a good thirty feet in front of me by that stage, but I kept him in my sights.

  Only when he looked over his shoulder towards me did he up the pace and break out into a run.

  I wasn't as fast as he was, but I did my best to keep up.

  He pushed his way through a group of teenagers taking a selfie. Seconds later I too reached that group. Only they weren't as willing to move for me. I apologized as they swore at me in a way only teenagers could.

  A car horn blasted as John ran out in front of it. He waved to the driver in a quick thanks and kept going. The road was a good move on his part, as it slowed me down, and his lead increased.

  But it wasn't stopping me.

  Once there was a gap in the traffic, I sprinted after him, wishing like anything I hadn't eaten Mrs. Rhodes' cake. It was starting to churn in my stomach as it mixed with adrenaline.

  Thanks to the pedestrians in his path, I was gaining on him. A lot!

  He turned a sharp right into the Coconut Closet Convenience Co-Op, pushing past two ladies as he used their carts to block my way.

  "I'm so sorry," I spluttered as I almost knocked one lady over. I grabbed at her before she fell, hearing the many names she called me along the way. Manners made me want to stop and check that she was okay, but I couldn't.

  John was making his way through the store, ducking into aisle six.

  Why wouldn't he stop and talk to me? What was he afraid of?

  Leaving the ladies shouting how they were going to tell my mother, I said a quick prayer that they were all talk and no action. If Mum found out, she'd wipe the floor with me.

  As I ran after John into aisle six, he waved, grabbed at the metal shelf nearest to him, and pulled it all in my path.

  It hit the tiled floor, the impact caused cartons of Voss bottled water to break, and the floor suddenly became a slippery rink of broken glass. My feet slipped from under me, my arms flailed, and I fell face first, thankfully missing any major shards.

  Argh!

  John skidded to a halt and came back to check if I was okay. Satisfied that I hadn't cut any major arteries, he then saluted me and took off again. Within seconds I was up and after him.

  By the time I reached him, he was almost halfway along the next aisle. Glancing at me over his shoulder, he grabbed at something off one of the shelves. As I got close enough, he threw it at me.

  Squealing, I put my arms up to protect my face as a bag hit me and exploded.

  Flour filled the air, clogging my nostrils and clouding my vision. I coughed and spluttered, inhaling even more of it.

  The water I had previously fallen in combined with the flour that now covered my entire being, and my face flushed with embarrassment. I was making my own glue.

  John laughed and was about to run again, when I launched myself at him and held on tight.

  I swore quietly under my breath. Okay, no I didn't. I actually cursed quite loudly.

  My weight knocked him sideways, and his legs got caught up with mine as I wrapped myself around him. He lost his balance and fell with me landing on the top.

  * * *

  I wasn't sure which one of us whimpered the loudest. Actually, I was pretty sure it was me. That was of course after the air filled my lungs once more.

  I rolled off John and looked at him lying on the ground, too stunned to talk.

  "Are you okay?" I wheezed as another cloud of flour started to settle. He nodded but continued to lie on his back, his leg at a weird angle.

  "I think so," he croaked.

  "Good." I only wanted to talk to him, not kill him.

  "Urgh…" he groaned, rolling onto his stomach. "You know, if you wanted to jump my bones you just had to say the word." He flashed me a smile, ready to sit up.

  I scowled at him as he pushed himself onto his knees. Crawling towards him, I lay across his back.

  "What are you doing?" he asked.

  "Stopping you from leaving before you answer my questions."

  "Geez, lady…you're persistent," he said, rolling onto his back and knocking me to the ground.

  Shoppers gave us a wide berth. I figured it wouldn't be long before management marched towards us demanding an explanation.

  "Why did you send me flowers?" I asked.

  "What flowers?" He looked at me, confused.

  Oh, it wasn't him then.

  "Why did you run away from me?"

  "I wasn't running from you."

  "Yes you were!" I yelled.

  "No, I wasn't."

  "Look mister, you were running, and I was running after you."

  "Yeah, but you weren't the only one."

  I wasn't? I did a quick look around me, scanning for anyone who could have been chasing him.

  "Who was it?" I asked, noticing he no longer looked worried.

  "No one you need to worry about."

  I frowned. "What's your real name?" I asked, not believing a word he said.

  "John." He pulled himself up to standing, cracking his shoulder into place as he did so.

  "Liar. Juls told me that the John who had booked the lesson looked very different from you."

  The man grinned. "Oh yeah. So he did." He held out his hand to help me up. Well, at least he had some manners.

  "What happened to John?" I asked, putting weight on to my throbbing knee. I'd knocked it as we hit the tiled floor.

  "I gave him some money and told him to disappear."

  "And he did what you wanted?" I asked incredulously.

  "Yeah. You can get people to do whatever you want."

  "How do you do that?"

  "Well, that all depends on what's pushing them."

  That reminded me of something Casey had once said.

  "Why did you do it?" I continued.

  "I needed to talk to you. To get some answers."

  "Did I give them to you?" If I did, I certainly hadn't meant to.

  "Not really. But I did find out one thing."

  "And that was?"

  "I now know what Casey Dalton sees in you. You're one of a kind."

  With that, John, aka who-really-knows, dug a key looking remarkably like ours out of his pocket, handed it to me, and grinned. He then did a limping run, disappearing around the next aisle and presumably out the front door.

  * * *

  I stayed and paid the store for all the broken water bottles and flour. Sure it meant that I needed to work as many extra shifts as I could for the next few months to be able to afford it, but it was the right thing to do. I'd also wanted to clean up the mess, but management swiped my credit card and told me to leave—immediately. I crossed the Coconut Closet Convenience Co-Op off my list of favorite stores.

  I didn't get the answers from John that I wanted. All I got was more questions. And I'd really had enough of those.

  I was having
a slow walk back to Casey when a man stepped out from behind a large palm and stood in my path. I gulped as I saw it was Bicep Man.

  "You need to stay out of things that are none of your business," he spat, his look menacing, his Australian accent loud and proud.

  "W-what do you mean," I asked, trying very hard to keep the wobble out of my voice.

  "I know you were in the forest."

  "Yes. And I know you were also." My heart skipped a beat, and I figured I really should be keeping my mouth shut. But nerves did that to me. "I know what I was doing, but why were you there?" I asked, ignoring my own warnings to myself. We were in a public place. Surely he wouldn't hurt me here.

  "It's best you don't know that," he said, his stale-smelling breath filling the air and nearly making me gag. "Now, you need to tell me what Ryan did with the journal."

  "I…I don't know," I replied honestly.

  A look flicked through his eyes, and if I had to describe it, I'd say it was fear. It was only there for a second though, as he blinked it away. "If I did I'd be looking for the treasure myself," I finished.

  "You need to stay away from that," he stated, his tone ominous. "That treasure is none of your business."

  "What does all of this have to do with Casey?" I asked bravely.

  "Nothing. It has nothing to do with him."

  "Then why were you asking about him?"

  "Because he and Ryan have known each other a long time. Ryan trusted him."

  "What did he trust him with?" I asked.

  "Look missy, I'm the one asking the questions!" he said, looking slightly frustrated. "And I'm telling you for your own good you need to stay out of things that don't concern you."

  "That's not a question."

  He shook his head, his expression both exasperated and irritated. "Don't say I didn't warn you." With that he turned and jogged across the road, causing a car to hit the brakes and blast its horn at him.

  If I said my legs weren't shaking, I would be lying, but I managed to walk back to the car, where I found Casey leaning against it, looking worried.

  Seeing me, he ran forward. "What the…" he asked, stunned. "I thought you must have gone to look at the shops." He stood opened-mouthed, looking at me. "You're a mess!"