by Penny Plume
Bart frowned, thinking it through.
Jenna stayed quiet and let him.
Cabo touched the small of her back. She gave him a small I got this gesture with the palm of her hand.
“Bart, I want a spa,” Sherri said.
Bart’s frown deepened.
“The Sanctuary Spa,” Jenna said. “It sounds perfect. Healing sands, subterranean vibrations, a peaceful underground retreat away from the rest of the world.”
“Nice,” Bart said. “What do you think, babe? We can give it a shot, and if it doesn’t work, we’ll find a way to build our resort the right way. Right on top of everybody else.”
“I guess. I get to run the spa, though.”
“Of course.” He kissed her on the forehead and looked at Jenna and Cabo. “As for you two, what do you want out of this? A cut?”
Classic Kavanaugh, Jenna thought.
Bart pushed on. “I’ll make you a deal. Everything that happened down here—and the murders, I guess—will be our little secret. You’ll each get…three percent of the profits from Sanctuary.”
“I was going to suggest two percent,” Jenna said, “so it’s a deal.”
“Damn,” Bart said, then waved the lighter left to right in front of him as if reading a banner. “Sanctuary: The Town that Time Forgot.”
“Oo,” Sherri said.
“Or no: Sanctuary: The Lost City of Sin.”
“Yay!”
“Fantastic,” Jenna said. “Oh, can you also pay to rebuild my shop, since you burned it down?”
“No,” Bart said. “That’s what insurance is for. I hope you have a good policy.”
“Why did you do that?”
“Distraction,” Bart said. “If we just started a fire down here, they might find it and put it out. If your place is burning like a bonfire, and smoke starts popping up all along Main Street, then the whole thing burns down, well—it all started in your dinky shop.”
“Hm,” Jenna said. “And my brakes?”
Bart snorted. “I never thought you’d make it as far as you did. We were counting on you going off the road and taking the whole Ingrid investigation with you.”
“But she didn’t have anything to do with Ingrid’s death,” Cabo said.
“Exactly! While Olson and dumb Garrett were trying to figure out what happened—was Jenna the next target? Was she crazed by the pressure of the investigation, the guilt of killing Ingrid, and tried to kill herself? By the time it all got sorted out, we’d be locked into our Main Street takeover.”
“So I was just a decoy?” Jenna asked.
“A snoopy decoy,” Sherri said. “But I’m glad you didn’t die, I guess. I mean, the whole underground spa thing makes up for it.”
Jenna blinked. “Well. What a relief. Okay, my lips are sealed about all of that, you didn’t murder anybody, or try to, and we’re all going to be rich. I say we go back up, give it a day or so to let the fumes clear out down here, then stumble across the hatch. The town celebrates, money starts flowing, and pretty soon nobody even remembers the whole Lost Haven Resort thing.”
“I like it,” Bart said. “But stop acting like the boss, because you’re not.”
“Noted.”
Jenna turned toward the stairs and gave Cabo a tiny nod. He moved into the other hallway to let her and the rest pass.
Jenna put a foot on the first step. “Sherri, how soon can you have that spa open? I don’t know about you, but I could use a massage.”
“Oh hon, I don’t think you’ll be able to afford it.”
Bart and Sherri strolled past Cabo. Sherri had Mr. Wolfie cradled in her arms, leaning down so their noses could touch.
“She can’t afford it, can she Mr. Wolfie? No she can’t. It’s going to be too fancy! Just like you.”
Bart mused, “Do you think the building back there is big enough to become Barty’s Party Sports Bar? I don’t think so. But—oh!—is gambling legal underground? Like it is out on the water?”
He never got an answer.
Cabo stepped behind them and wrapped a massive arm around both of their necks, hooking his forearms under their chins and squeezing.
Bart managed to say “Gah!”
Sherri dropped Mr. Wolfie, who scampered between Cabo’s feet and looked up at him, waiting for his turn.
Then Cabo eased Bart and Sherri, both unconscious, to the wooden floor. He scooped Mr. Wolfie and stood up, scratching the little dog’s ears.
“Wow,” Jenna said.
“That’s what the nod meant, right? Take them out?”
“Yeah, but I thought it would be harder than that. I was ready to jump in and help as soon as you started.”
“Blood choke,” Cabo said. “Turns the lights out pretty quick. They’ll have headaches when they wake up in ten or so minutes, but other than that, they’re fine.”
“Nice. I think I need some bodyguard training.”
“Yeah, what were you going to do when you jumped in, exactly?”
“Hey. I was gonna crack you with a full coffee pot when you came to my shop all covered in blood yesterday. I would have figured something out.”
“You were gonna crack me?” Cabo said, shocked.
“Just give me the dog.” Jenna took a shivering Mr. Wolfie. “Can you get those two up to the ladder? I’ll go tell the cops and firefighters we need to hoist a couple murderers out of here.”
“Oh, now you don’t want to help.”
“You want me to grab Bart’s feet?”
“Nah,” Cabo said. He lifted Bart off the floor and slung him over a shoulder like a sack of laundry. “Honestly, it’s easier if I just do it.”
“Go team,” Jenna said.
13
A month later, Jenna’s Welcome Shoppe was still an empty lot with some charred pieces of foundation sticking up from a patch of sand and charcoal.
Jenna sat across the street from it on a bench in Lilac Park, sipping one of the best cups of coffee she’d ever had.
The July morning was already warm, even with the breeze coming off the marina, flowing through the park and ruffling the Fourth of July decorations on Main Street’s light poles. The parade was set for later that morning, and Jenna couldn’t wait to see what the Holiday Committee put together.
Word of buried Sanctuary spread immediately from the chaotic scene on Main Street. When the sun rose that smoky Sunday morning, the entire town came to hear the Mayor, City Council, and Historical Society give an impromptu speech about what this meant for Lost Haven and its citizens.
The truth was, nobody knew yet.
But it was going to be exciting.
Belma opened her shop’s front door and propped it with a stone painted to look like a cupcake, spotted Jenna, and came across the street to sit next to her.
“Hey sweetie.”
“Hey,” Jenna said. “You want some help in your shop today? It’s going to be busy.”
“That would be wonderful. And it’ll drive Lawrence crazy.”
“I already offered to help him too, so I’ll be going back and forth.”
“Traitor. You’d better wash your hands before you leave his dump. And when you get to my lovely establishment. Oh, look. Mention his name and he emerges from his cave.”
Lawrence poked his head out of Elegant Confections, blinked in the sunlight, and saw the two women. Despite Belma trying to wave him back into the shop, he wandered across Main Street without looking for traffic and plopped on Jenna’s other side.
“I just can’t get used to it,” he said, staring at the vacant lot where Jenna’s Welcome Shoppe used to be. “I mean, Belma’s dog food store cannot be the first thing people see when they come up Main Street. What does that say? ‘Hey, welcome to Lost Haven and Sanctuary. Here, have some diarrhea.’”
“Nobody invited you over here,” Belma said.
“And yet, here I sit.”
They all watched the movers bustling in front of Wilford’s art gallery for a spell. The men carried odd-shaped
pieces wrapped in heavy blankets to the freight truck parked along the curb, the final displays that Wilford hadn’t been able to transport in his car to load from home.
The Lost Haven Art Gallery was relocating to Clearwater, Florida, where Wilford vowed to spread the legend of buried Sanctuary and divert tourists away from the beaches and cruises and send them north.
When Jenna asked him why he was leaving now, just when things were getting exciting, he’d smiled and winked: “That’s exactly why.”
The largest man among the movers stepped away from the rest and looked up at the blank facade, where the art gallery’s sign had been for so long. He wasn’t dressed like the others, because he wasn’t one of them—he was just lending a hand.
“I’m still not sure about that,” Belma said.
Jenna sipped her coffee. “The Main Street shop owners voted, lady. It was unanimous.”
“I love it,” Lawrence said. “Let’s bring some energy to this drag.”
Jay Cabo turned from the empty gallery and waved.
All three of them waved back.
“What’s he calling it?” Belma asked. “Lost Haven Yoga, Pilates, and Self-Defense Studio?”
“That’s the old name,” Jenna said. “He thought it was too on-the-nose. He’s just calling it Lost Haven Bodyworks.”
“I can’t believe he does yoga,” Lawrence said. He stretched his arms over his head and arched backward against the bench, began to shake from the effort, then belched and patted his belly.
“Huh. It works.”
“Heathen,” Belma scowled. She leaned into Jenna and sniffed at her coffee. “What’s in there?”
“I don’t know, but it’s fantastic. You should go get one before the place is packed.”
They looked toward the end of the block, where patrons filled the tables in front of the Sanctuary Cafe having coffee, juice, and fresh cheese puffs. McTavish came out with a sterling silver carafe to top off any who needed it and make sure no one lacked cheese puffs.
Jenna’s stomach tugged her in that direction.
Mr. Wolfie swerved between McTavish’s polished shoes as he moved among the tables. The little dog had refused to leave his side since Sherri and Bart were arrested, and McTavish realized there was still one Kavanaugh, more or less, who needed his service.
He glanced up, saw Jenna and the rest on the bench, and gave a slight bow before hustling back inside.
“I don’t recognize any of the people at the café,” Jenna said. “They’re all media or tourists.”
“All of the hotels here are full,” Lawrence said. “Even the motels. And not just by the hour—I’m talking weeks.”
Jenna couldn’t help smiling. “Imagine what’s going to happen when we actually open Sanctuary for them to see.”
“Honey,” Belma said, “we need a Welcome Shoppe.”
“I know. The City Council said the new one has to be at least twice as big to fit the crowds. I should have the plans finalized by the end of the week. They say it will be done within a month.”
“That fast?” Lawrence said.
Jenna smiled again. “Hey, this Kavanaugh construction crew was about to build a whole resort. One little Welcome Shoppe is a piece of cake.”
“Hopefully mine,” Belma said. “Not that slop they serve down the street.”
Jenna sipped her coffee again and settled in between her two friends.
Some things in Lost Haven would never change.
But everything else in her beloved hometown was about to be completely different.
A new future wrapped around the mysterious past.
She couldn’t wait.
About the Author
Penny Plume is a lifelong reader, historian, and storyteller. She loves nothing more than getting lost in a great story.
Thank you for reading
THE LAST RESORT IN LOST HAVEN
Book One of the Lost Haven Cozy Mysteries
To learn more about Lost Haven, Sanctuary, and the next book, please join the Penny Plume First Readers Club at:
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