Knocking on Death's Door

by Lucy Quinn

  Knocking on Death’s Door

  Secret Seal Isle Mysteries - Book 8

  Lucy Quinn

  Seaside Story Productions

  Copyright © 2018 by Seaside Story Productions

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  Cover by Lewellen Designs

  Editing by Angie Ramey

  * * *

  Don’t miss an installment from Lucy Quinn. Sign up for her newsletter.

  Contents

  About this Book

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  About the Author

  About this Book

  The Miss Dumpy parade is back in all its glory on Secret Seal Isle, and with Rain in charge, the residents are getting more than they bargained for. When the festivities are temporarily delayed, Cookie discovers Rain’s not the only one with junk in her trunk. A dead body is found in the classic automobile Rain commandeered for the inn’s float. And when the corpse is identified as a man with ties to the DeMasi mob, it appears Cookie’s past may have finally caught up with her.

  But Cookie’s not the only one who is threatened by the murder investigation. The new deputy-sheriff, June Loon, arrests Rain and her friends for the crime. It’s clear Secret Seal Isle is no longer a safe place for Cookie, but leaving the sleepy island town could also mean losing Dylan, the man she loves. With a mother in chains, a killer on the loose, and her heart on the line, Cookie must solve the case to save it all.

  1

  Cookie gazed out the passenger window of the truck at the crowd gathered to watch the recently resurrected Miss Dumpy parade. The once-annual event had been cancelled and sealed shut in its rusty coffin right around the time recycling became popular, but Cookie’s mother Rain had read about it in a ‘Blast from the Past’ article in the local paper and decided it was time the parade made a comeback.

  Participants created costumes and floats using only items found at the town dump. After convincing the town the Miss Dumpy parade was the perfect event to kick off the tourist season, Rain had insisted their inn join in the event. So Cookie found herself sitting next to Dylan as they hauled the inn’s float down Main Street on Secret Seal Isle.

  Drums rolled and trumpets blared, the music issuing forth from the newly-formed town marching band. Candy clattered on the pavement as Cookie threw a handful out to the crowd, and she watched children rushing to grab some as she listened to the bickering of her mother and her friends, who’d nicknamed themselves the Pussycat Posse.

  “Blake, tuck that hair in.” Rain let out a huff of annoyance. “I don’t know why you wouldn’t let Peaches clean you up. There is nothing sexy about a hairy chest in a corset.”

  “For crying out loud,” Blake said. “I don’t know why I had to wear this.”

  “Honey,” Winter, his girlfriend, chimed in. “If you’d moved a little faster, you could’ve gotten that studded jacket Larry managed to snag and been the rhinestone cowboy. But no, you were too enamored with this old Chrysler we’d already laid claim to.”

  On the float behind Dylan and Cookie, the Pussycat Posse was sitting in an old Chrysler convertible that Cookie was sure housed a few rodents along with the moss and sprouted acorns they’d pulled out of the nooks and crannies.

  Cookie exchanged an amused glance with her boyfriend Dylan. His steely-blue eyes gleamed as he ran a hand through his dark hair. Three days before the event, the dump had opened up for two hours to allow everyone involved in the parade the time to gather their costume and float supplies. That in itself was an event people should have paid to see, because even the town’s most timid residents had become like rabid dogs in search of a fleshy bone.

  Rain had taken her preparations seriously, and each member of her posse, along with Dylan, Cookie and Scarlett, had been given a list of items to snag during the mayhem of the dump sweep. “You know,” Hale said, “everyone thinks that Larry’s a nice guy, but he sure got mean when it came to that jacket.”

  “Well,” Cari said, “it does make him a rather sexy Elvis.”

  Cookie chuckled, because Larry definitely resembled Elvis in his later years, but she had to admit it was a testament to his restaurant’s food. And since he was tossing out coupons, he was likely making a killing on the Salty Dog’s lobster rolls that his daughter Daisy was selling from the outdoor stand they’d set up for the parade.

  However, Larry and the few cooks he had on his float were not any competition for Rain and her gang. Rain, Winter, Cari, Blake and Hale had been practicing for their debut as the Pussycat Posse for weeks. Dressed up as a rock band, they hoped to win the contest for best group costume. They’d even been practicing lip-synching to a few 70s hits, but when the practice run for the parade had been held, the marching band insisted the Pussycat Posse limit blaring their boom box to periods when Elvin, the elderly man who led the drum section, needed a break.

  As if Elvin had read her thoughts, the drumming halted, and Winter squealed with excitement before she cried out, “Hale, hit it!”

  A song by Kiss blasted out and made Cookie’s ears ring. Without turning around to watch, Cookie knew that right behind her on the float, five pairs of middle-aged hips were gyrating and various body parts threatened to fall out of skimpy clothing that was comprised of tattered fabric and items that had no business sitting next to skin. Judging by the slack jaws and hand-covered mouths she saw on the faces in the crowd, the show the Pussycat Posse was performing had exactly the affect Cookie had expected.

  She had to hand it to Rain, though. When her mother first befriended a jeweler on the island known as Crazy Cari and claimed that the Miss Dumpy parade should return, Cookie wasn’t sure if the idea was a marijuana-induced fantasy or brilliant tourist attraction. Fortunately, since the inn was at full capacity and Captain Bob had added an extra ferry trip to the schedule to accommodate the increased traffic for today’s parade, it appeared to be the latter.

  Secret Seal Isle had suffered a bit of backlash from the recent murders that had pushed the town into the spotlight, and the local businesses needed to find unique ways to bring the tourists back. While nobody came out and said it at the chamber of commerce meeting where the issue was discussed, it was clear to Cookie and Rain that many blamed the two of them for bringing trouble to the island. And to be truthful, Cookie wasn’t so sure they hadn’t. She and Rain had moved to Secret Seal Isle just over a year ago to hide out from a mob boss Cookie had taken down as an FBI agent, and it seemed there had been one dead body after another ever since.

  Fortunately, Rain had an imagination that rivaled some of the most creative sci-fi writers to ever exist, and she’d offered to spearhead the campaign to make Secret Seal Isle a destination not to be missed. And that is what led to the return of the Miss Dumpy parade. Years ago, the Miss Dumpy parade had been a
big hit, and since Crazy Cari had been the reigning queen for a good decade before it was cancelled, Rain nabbed her as the perfect co-chair for the committee.

  When a loud pop sounded, Cookie was yanked from her thoughts, and Dylan groaned before he said, “We’ve got a flat.” He glanced at Cookie. “We really shouldn’t continue on, because driving on it will ruin your wheel rim.”

  She nodded. “How quickly can you change a tire?”

  He grinned at her as he wiggled his fingers. “With these hands? Fast enough.” He slowed to a stop and they both hopped out of the truck. Dylan went to the back in search of the spare tire as Cookie gazed at the Pussycat Posse.

  Rain was standing on the trunk of the old convertible pumping her hips which made the metal pot lids at her groin clash together like cymbals, and she was screaming something about being made for loving you. Cookie closed her eyes with the hope of erasing the image from her mind before she climbed up on the float to turn off the music.

  Her mother kept singing anyway, her wild red hair blowing in the slight breeze. And without her background music it was painful to hear. “Mom!” Cookie yelled, but Rain either couldn’t hear her or was ignoring her. Cookie walked over and grabbed her arm. “Mom!”

  Rain stopped and glared at her daughter. Someone from the float behind them called out, “What’s going on?”

  Cookie yelled back, “We’ve got a flat tire!”

  “Really, Cookie, interrupting was not necessary,” Rain said in annoyance. “Don’t you know the show must go on?” She turned to the rest of her crew. “Hale, honey, can you turn the music back on?”

  “Not so fast,” Dylan said as he approached them. “Do either of you know where I can find your tire iron?”

  Cookie frowned. “It’s not under the back seat?”

  Dylan shook his head and Rain said, “Oh bother. Who gets a flat tire these days?”

  The guilty look on her mother’s face told Cookie everything she needed to know. “You used the tire iron for something and forgot to put it back, didn’t you?”

  “Well,” Rain said with a sheepish grin. “Hale and I—”

  Cookie help up her hand and said, “No need to say any more, Mom.” She knew from past experience that Rain was likely involved in some sexual activity Cookie didn’t want to know about, let alone have burned in her memory for a lifetime. “Let’s see if there’s one in the trunk of the Chrysler.”

  Dylan nimbly hopped up on the float and held out his hand for Rain. He grinned at her. “Right this way, Kitty Cat.”

  Rain giggled like a schoolgirl as her hands went up to her hair to check the cat-ear headband she’d fashioned out of a ratty old fur coat she’d found. She took his hand to let him help her down from the car. Dylan’s actions made Cookie smile, because her boyfriend understood her mother’s ways and usually found Rain amusing. It was a trait that endeared Dylan to Cookie more than he could ever know.

  “What in the devil is going on?” screeched the voice of Secret Seal Isle’s newest resident and current deputy, June Loon.

  Cookie turned to her as the stout woman marched up in a trademark skirt and jacket made of lightweight summer material in a pale shade of blue. An oversized star June had commissioned Cari to make for her shimmered in the sunlight practically blinding Cookie. It was engraved with big letters that said Deputy, in case anyone had any doubt.

  Once Cookie could see again, she noticed June glaring at Rain. The deputy pointed a finger at Cookie’s mother. “Is your desire for attention so great you need to stop a parade?”

  Rain’s smile instantly turned to a venomous glare that spelled trouble, but before she could strike out at June, Dylan stepped in front of Rain and said, “Sorry, Deputy.” He paused as if dazzled by her and said, “That shade of blue is nice on you.”

  “Oh.” June, distracted from her mission, gave him a shy smile and smoothed out her skirt as she said, “Thank you.”

  Hale had jumped out of the car and was holding Rain in an embrace that gave off a tough-love vibe as Rain squirmed in his arms.

  “We’ve got a flat tire, but I should be able to change it out in a jiffy,” Dylan said, smiling at June.

  The woman’s anger completely deflated as she gazed up at the island’s resident handyman, and since Cookie understood the power of Dylan’s steely blue eyes and charming ways, she couldn’t blame her one bit. June said, “Well then. I suppose that’s not a big deal, is it?” She turned to one of her officers, and her mood changed to something serious in a nanosecond. “Zeke. Lift me up there and give me the bullhorn.”

  Dylan stepped over to the back of the Chrysler and pushed the lock in to open the trunk. Metal groaned as he lifted the hatch, and a foul odor Cookie recognized instantly wafted out.

  Her stomach dropped.

  Dylan jerked back with a, “Whoa.”

  June stepped forward to peer into the trunk at the same time Cookie did. Inside the storage compartment was a dead man who appeared to have been shot through the heart.

  June gazed at Cookie with a shocked expression before fire filled her eyes. She pursed her lips and slammed the trunk shut.

  2

  June may have gotten the trunk closed before people saw the corpse inside, but she wasn’t fast enough to avoid a scene.

  Rain screeched out, “Another dead body!” She gazed up at the sky. “Why? Why do you torture me so? This was my big break. My—”

  As the crowd awakened to what happened, the rest of Rain’s words were drowned out. People called out for loved ones. Parents grabbed their children to cover their eyes as others swarmed the float in an attempt to get a glimpse for themselves.

  Cookie let out a sigh before she took action. She turned to the rest of the Pussycat Posse and said, “Station yourselves on the edges of the float. Nobody gets on here with us. Got it?”

  Hale lifted his guitar made from a baseball bat and hubcap over his head as if he were ready to strike.

  Cookie quickly added, “Peacefully.”

  “Eighties child,” Winter said as if that explained everything. And the scary part was Cookie understood what she meant, even if it wasn’t true. Winter and the rest of the Pussycat crew were a bunch of aging hippies who, with the exception of Rain when it came to June, would rather talk things through than use violence. Hale, however was her mother’s much younger boyfriend who didn’t grow up in the time of peace, love, and getting high. Although he certainly had no trouble with the last one. But those kinds of thoughts were not what Cookie needed to be focusing on.

  June’s voice blared through her bullhorn. “Everyone, remain calm. The situation is under control. I repeat. The situation is under control.” She continued to yell through the speaker to the crowd as she said, “Back! Clear the perimeter, people. Now!”

  Cookie had to admit that for such a short person, June was very effective. Once the deputy had the crowd pushed back far enough, she handed the bullhorn to Zeke with instructions to keep them that way.

  June turned to Cookie, her fingers digging into Cookie’s arm as she said, “This is a PR nightmare.” June’s words then tumbled out like dice from a cup, and Cookie couldn’t have gotten a word in edgewise if she’d wanted. “I’m going to have to give a press conference. Do you think this suit is appropriate? I need to prepare a speech. Do you suppose we could just postpone this until next weekend? I’m sure the local businesses would like the extra income and—” June paused and took a much needed breath. “Goodness, however am I going to spin this positively?” She let out a huff of annoyance. “I don’t have time to do all of that and head the investigation too.” She gazed at Cookie with big eyes and said, “I’m afraid I need your help, dear.”

  “Of course,” Cookie said as she wondered when June had actually last performed her official deputy duties. “You’d like me to start investigating?”

  “Yes.” June seemed to realize she was still clutching Cookie’s arm and released her grip to pat her instead. “You’re a treasure.” Then she crinkled
her nose. “Get that body to the morgue and have him identified as soon as you can.” She glanced at Rain and shook her head. She had the good sense to speak softly enough that Rain couldn’t hear when she added, “And put some clothes on your mother, would you?”

  June then squinted at Cookie. “Don’t think I won’t be questioning her later. Her and her posse.” The deputy let out a noise of disgust before she turned on her heel, climbed down from the float, and walked away.

  Cookie turned to Dylan as she grabbed her phone from her pocket. “Can you find a tire iron and change the flat? We might as well drive the float to the ferry and meet Jared.”

  Jared Delgado was the medical examiner in Hancock and had become a regular in Cookie’s life due to the number of murder investigations she’d already conducted since her arrival on Secret Seal Isle. Dylan answered her with a quick nod before getting to work.

  When Cookie called Jared’s office, she learned that he was on vacation visiting family, but his girlfriend and fellow ME, Frankie Sandretti, was filling in, and she promised to be on the next ferry.

  Once Cookie ended the call, Rain informed her that she and the posse were returning to the inn to relax after all the excitement. Then she asked, “We’re going to get to keep the Chrysler, aren’t we?”

  “Once it’s been combed over for evidence, I don’t see why not,” Cookie said.