The Last Resort in Lost Haven

by Penny Plume

  “Fire,” Cabo said. “But the map didn’t come from your shop. Did it?”

  “Nope.”

  Jenna pointed to the Sanctuary Cafe.

  “It came from in there. Come on.”

  Jenna used her janitor’s keyring to open the cafe’s front door. Earthy coffee and light tea aromas flowed out, a welcome change from the smoke and exhaust. She and Cabo slipped inside, then closed and locked the door behind them.

  The lights from Main Street and the emergency vehicles coming through the plate glass windows provided more than enough illumination to see the tables and chairs in the main area.

  The chairs were still upside-down on top of the tables, just like Ingrid had left them after she was done sweeping and mopping, except for those closest to the door. Those tables had been moved by the crime scene technicians so they could maneuver around the spot where Ingrid’s body had been, which was where Jenna was standing now.

  She glanced down, had a quick flash of Ingrid’s lifeless eyes staring up at her, then skipped to the right and shook off another round of the creeps.

  “You okay?” Cabo said.

  “Yeah. Just…a lot of dead bodies around here lately.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go down the street?”

  “And what? Watch my livelihood burn to the ground? Inhale the burning memories? No thanks. I’d rather do something productive. Like save the rest of the town.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Cabo stepped to the L-shaped coffee bar, which ran along the back half of the right wall and the entire back wall. Just yesterday, the entire length had been a flurry of activity, energy, and gossip. Now it was empty, still, and cold.

  “So what exactly are we looking for? And how do you know the map came from here?”

  “Ingrid had the map,” Jenna said. “It had to be her. She showed it to Kavanaugh and he was forced to write this letter.”

  She lifted the evidence bag.

  “And with the map, came the sand. Look in any corner here and you’ll see it. Ingrid always had it the worst of any of us shop owners, so no matter where she hid the map, the sand would have found it. Now we just have to do the same.”

  “Because…”

  “Because we need all the proof we can find to use against Bart and his resort.”

  “I’m confused,” Cabo said. “Isn’t Bart a murderer? How can he build the resort from prison?”

  “This is Lost Haven,” Jenna said. “He’s a Kavanaugh. So far there has been zero evidence showing he killed anybody, and if something does turn up, I don’t think we’ll ever know about it.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  “You saw how many lawyers Kavanaugh had at his meeting last night, and that was just for a stupid building. Imagine how many show up to keep the heir to the Kavanaugh fortune out of jail.”

  “There were a lot of lawyers,” Cabo admitted.

  “See?”

  “Okay. So what am I looking for?”

  Jenna started opening decorative tea tins and peering inside. “Books. Maps, obviously. Any sort of deed or paperwork. Old money. Gold.”

  “Gold?”

  “The First Bank of Sanctuary printed its own money. People traded gold for cash. And I’ll give you one guess on who owned the bank.”

  “The Kavanaughs,” Cabo said, leaning over the coffee bar to check underneath.

  “Ding ding.”

  Cabo straightened up and turned in a slow circle. “If I was going to hide something, I wouldn’t put it out here. Not where some random customer might stumble across it.”

  He pointed to a door along the back wall, behind the bar’s display case of scones and muffins that were probably just on the brink of being inedible.

  “Storage?”

  Jenna nodded. “And a small office. It’s just one room, combined space.”

  Cabo hopped up to sit on the bar, spun his feet over, and dropped down on the far side.

  “That was very graceful,” Jenna said.

  “Shh. I’m supposed to be a meathead.”

  Jenna saw the flash of his smile in the semi-darkness. It was hard to tell, but he might have winked at her too.

  Did people still wink?

  “And don’t tell anybody about the Prius either, okay?”

  Jenna gasped. “That is your car!”

  “It’s amazing. I love that little machine.”

  She found herself grinning and tried to frown it down, because this was serious business, which only made it worse. She glanced at Cabo to see if he was struggling with the same problem.

  He stood in the doorway to the storage room, facing away from her, completely still.

  “Did you find something?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Cabo?”

  “Come here,” he whispered. “Very carefully.”

  The bar had an opening near the back-left corner of the café. Jenna rushed there as fast as she could without knocking anything over, then followed the bar until she stood next to Cabo’s left arm. He had the storage doorway half-open, and his body filled the entire gap.

  “What is it?” Jenna said, trying to peek around him. “Please don’t say it’s another dead person. Is it Sherri?”

  Cabo lifted a finger to his lips and eased backward, opening the storage room door as he went.

  Jenna looked inside and could not believe what she saw.

  It was a hatch.

  Ten or so narrow floorboards were stacked under the small desk, set aside to expose the subfloor in the middle of the room. A square, hinged panel of the subfloor was open, showing a vertical passageway leading straight down.

  An orange extension cord plugged into one of the outlets snaked across the floor and dropped into the shaft. Jenna could see the top of an aluminum ladder leaning against the far wall.

  “Where does that go?” Cabo whispered.

  Jenna just shook her head. “Main Street doesn’t have basements. The sand is too unstable.”

  She slid down to her hands and knees and eased closer.

  “Careful,” Cabo said. He tried to move with her but the room was too cramped. “Here, let me look first. Make sure it’s safe.”

  Jenna waved him off.

  “You’re not my bodyguard. I can’t afford you.”

  She stopped a foot away from the edge and leaned forward.

  Looked down.

  She stayed there for a moment, trying to make sense of what she saw. Then she leaned away and sat on her heels.

  “Oh, my.”

  Cabo was crouched in the doorway behind her, ready to spring forward or yank her away from the hatch.

  “Oh my what? What is it?”

  Jenna turned to him and smiled. “It’s an attic.”

  Cabo blinked.

  “An attic.”

  Jenna nodded, her eyes shining.

  “I’m gonna need more help here,” Cabo said.

  “It’s the First Bank of Sanctuary. Remember the map? It was set right where the café is now. Supposedly buried and lost beneath the eroding sand.”

  Cabo leaned back, absorbing the news. “So…it was buried, but…”

  “Not lost,” Jenna said. “It’s still there. The attic, anyway. This has to be where Ingrid found the map. This is why Kavanaugh wrote his letter. Not for a bunch of stupid dead bodies.”

  “Jenna.”

  “Sorry, I’m just excited.” She whispered toward Lilac Park: “Sorry dead bodies.”

  Cabo scooted forward. “Let me see.”

  Jenna moved to the side of the hatch so they could both look down. The shaft was made of vertical planks secured with boards and braces all the way down, about ten feet or so, until it ended inside the room below.

  The extension cord had to be connected to a light source, because they could clearly see the bottom of the ladder sitting on the wide wooden planks of the attic floor, secured between an ancient-looking trunk and a couple new sandbags.

  The passageway wasn’t v
ery wide, making the angle of the ladder quite steep.

  Cabo sat back. “This is making me dizzy.”

  “The height?”

  “No, the arrangement. That’s an attic. It’s supposed to be up.”

  “Think of it like an apartment building,” Jenna said. “That’s the floor below.”

  Cabo looked down. “Nope. Still nonsense.”

  “Maybe it will get better once you’re down there.”

  She swung her feet around, dropped them into the shaft and stepped onto the ladder.

  “What are you doing?” Cabo said.

  Jenna went down one rung. “I’m going to the First Bank of Sanctuary. Cabo, this is the proof that will stop the Lost Haven Resort for good. This is literally buried treasure. I’ll get pictures, show them to…everybody…and this whole nightmare will be over.”

  “Except for the murderer,” Cabo said. “And the murdered people.”

  “Ah, right. Except for them.”

  “And your burning shop.”

  “You’re killing me. Come on. We—”

  Jenna stopped and tilted her head. A cool draft rose from the attic below, brushing her bare ankles and caressing her hair.

  “What?” Cabo said. “You hear something?”

  “Not hear,” Jenna said. “Smell.”

  She inhaled the breeze, which, even though it had not changed temperature, suddenly gave her chills.

  “Gasoline.”

  Jenna stepped onto the attic floor of the First Bank of Sanctuary. It was solid and smooth, with a dull, faded finish, and she marveled at the craftsmanship that had gone into fitting the planks together so perfectly.

  The orange extension cord powered a string of work lights, each small bulb protected in a plastic cage. These were hung from small nails driven into the rafters around the attic, showing the entire space.

  It was huge.

  Jenna oriented herself, facing what had to be the front of the bank. The flat roof was higher there, too high to touch, and angled slightly toward the back wall until the space between the ceiling and floor was maybe four feet. An opening in the back left corner showed narrow stairs going down.

  Jenna looked up. The rafters were rough and unfinished. She could see the tool marks left by…who?

  The sheer history of it all made her giddy.

  Then Cabo stepped off the ladder and ruined it.

  “Where’s the gas coming from?” he whispered.

  They both examined the attic. It was empty except for the trunk, ladder, and sandbags. Jenna could picture Ingrid coming down here with her broom, sweeping up and collecting the sand in bags, then lugging them up the ladder. She’d consider it her workout for the day.

  A laugh slipped from Jenna, startling Cabo.

  “What’s funny?”

  “I just realized why Ingrid always had more sand in her shop than the rest of us.” She shook her head. “I wish she’d told me. I could have helped her. Maybe it would have saved her.”

  “That’s for later,” Cabo said. “Right now, somebody is getting ready to burn this whole place down.”

  He pointed at the stairway. Another extension cord went from the end of the light string down the stairs and disappeared.

  “Let’s go.”

  Cabo went first down the narrow stairway, turning sideways so his shoulders would fit.

  Jenna tried to see past him, but even his neck was too wide to see past.

  It was irritating.

  She caught another whiff of gasoline, stronger now, and tugged on his sleeve.

  “I smell it,” he whispered. “Careful, now.”

  They emerged on the second floor of the bank. More work lights hung from wall sconces and framed photographs, casting a yellow glow over everything. They stood at the end of a hallway spanning the width of the building with a single closed door halfway down the left wall.

  Across from that another hallway ran toward the front of the bank.

  But straight ahead, at the end of this hallway, someone—likely Ingrid—had cut a hole in the wall. There apparently hadn’t been an alley between the First Bank of Sanctuary and the Shoreline Gaming House, because Jenna could see the edge of a roulette table through the opening.

  Work lights showed sand heaped across that floor, some of it close to knee-deep. The breeze came from there, stronger now, and with it came the sound of someone moving.

  A dragging, shuffling sound.

  “Stay here,” Cabo whispered.

  “Yeah right,” Jenna whispered back.

  They crept along the hallway. Cabo checked the hallway to the right and kept going. Jenna peered that way. Closed office doors with etched glass on the upper halves lined the walls, which widened out at the front of the bank to make a luxurious-looking waiting area.

  Plush furniture sat beneath large windows, which must have overlooked the park (or cemetery) and marina at one time, but now showed only a wall of dark sand.

  Jenna took a moment to think of the pressure around them, the weight above them. The building above them.

  If something gives out…

  No. It’s stood this long, why would it collapse now?

  A fire, perhaps?

  Yep. Good point.

  Somewhere on the other side of the opening, something heavy fell.

  A muffled voice cursed.

  “We have to hurry,” Cabo said.

  Jenna moved toward him and glanced at the office door on her left. The etched glass had a single word in black paint and gold foil: KAVANAUGH

  “Wow,” Jenna breathed. She touched the letters with a fingertip.

  The history…

  Cabo had his back against the left wall, trying to see into the next room through the narrow opening. He glanced back at Jenna.

  “I’m going in.”

  “Wait for me,” Jenna said, and beyond him saw movement.

  Bart stepped into view, holding Mr. Wolfie and standing between two piles of sand up to his shins.

  “Hey guys,” he said. “Jenna, you touched my door. Now I’m gonna have to kill you.”

  Jenna said, “Bart, what are you doing down here? Where is the gas?”

  Bart laughed. “It’s everywhere. These old buildings are gonna burn like matchsticks. What happens when something burns underground? I guess we’ll find out.”

  Cabo eased toward the opening.

  “Okay, come on buddy. I think you’re still a little tipsy. Let’s head back up and get some fresh air.”

  “You know who can’t get fresh air? My father. Because you let him get killed.”

  “Bart,” Jenna said, “didn’t you kill him?”

  He shrugged. “Semantics.”

  “Where is Sherri?”

  Mr. Wolfie’s ears perked up at the sound of her name.

  Bart smirked. “Oh, did you find my nice doll? Fooled you the first time you saw it. You and everybody else.”

  “Is she okay?” Jenna asked.

  Bart looked down at Mr. Wolfie. “What do you think, you little monster? Is Sherri okay?”

  Mr. Wolfie’s tongue popped out and his rear end wiggled.

  Bart lifted a chrome lighter. “Do you think we should burn this all down? Along with a few new bodies? You do? Oh, good boy.”

  Cabo stepped to the opening.

  Jenna was right behind him.

  She said, “Put it down, Bart.”

  “Nope.” He flicked the lighter open.

  Cabo put a foot through.

  “He’s coming to get us,” Bart told Mr. Wolfie. “Do you want to go get him? You do? Okay, go get him.”

  He set Mr. Wolfie down as Cabo stepped into the opening. The tiny dog scrambled across the sandy floor and skidded to a halt between Cabo’s feet. Cabo looked down, pure reflex, and Jenna realized he was about to die.

  The crushed skulls, hit from above.

  No, not above.

  They were all looking down.

  She grabbed the back of Cabo’s belt with both hands and heaved wi
th all of her strength. Cabo budged—maybe an inch or two—and Jenna hoped it was enough.

  He fell back just as the shovel swung from the other side of the opening. The handle smashed into the wall, halting the metal blade just before it caved in the top of Cabo’s head.

  “Whoa!” he yelled, continuing his backward stumble and taking Jenna with him. They fell in a heap on the hallway floor as Sherri peeked around the corner of the opening with the shovel in her hands.

  “Good boy Mr. Wolfie,” she crooned. “Now you stay here just a minute. Mommy has to deal with these two.”

  Jenna and Cabo untangled themselves, clunking heads more than once, and got to their feet in the hallway.

  Sherri stepped through the opening with the shovel close and ready to swing again.

  Cabo moved between her and Jenna, his bodyguard training taking over, but Jenna just stepped around him and opened her arms for a hug.

  “Sherri, you’re alive!” she said.

  Sherri hesitated. “Yeah. Duh.”

  “We thought Bart murdered you.”

  “Well, he didn’t.”

  “But you murdered Ingrid. And Harrison Kavanaugh.”

  Bart emerged from the opening behind her. He still held the lighter. The stench of gasoline coming from the rooms behind him made Jenna’s eyes sting.

  “They both had to go,” Bart said. “And now so do you two, along with all of this mess down here.”

  “Why, so you can build the Lost Haven Resort and get even richer?”

  Bart looked at Sherri. “I think she’s finally getting it.”

  “I get it just fine. You don’t get it. Look around. These rooms, these buildings, this furniture—it’s all priceless, Bart. It’s worth ten times more than some eyesore hotel. A hundred times. Hotels are everywhere. There’s only one Sanctuary, and you could own it. Look.”

  Jenna stepped back and pointed to the office door.

  “Your name is already here.”

  Bart glanced at the door. “Nobody cares about a couple abandoned buildings buried in the sand, Jenna.”

  “Yes they do. But even more, they care about what else is buried in the sand. Bart, we haven’t even started to explore what’s been right under our feet in Lost Haven. People will pay thousands of dollars to come find out. Millions, maybe.”