Traveling Town Cozy Mystery Box Set

by Ami Diane

“I’m sorry you were doing something illegal and got caught. Also, I don’t believe for a second that you didn’t just start another still someplace else.”

  He gave a lazy shrug, the fire leaving his eyes.

  “Anyway, did you ever see the privateer in the forest?”

  “Couple of times. But if you’re askin’ if I knew where he was livin’, I don’t know. He’d always shake me in them trees.”

  She straightened, ready to leave when he stopped her.

  “I may have left out a bit Friday morning when I went to check on my… when I went for a gander in the woods.” He released her and stabbed his cigarette on the bar top. “I saw that Darren fellow in the woods, too. If you’re lookin’ to pin this on someone after the buried treasure, he’s your guy.”

  “Yeah, Chapman’s looking into him. Unfortunately, he’s pulled a Houdini.” At his blank expression, she supplied, “Darren’s run off.”

  He settled back, a smug expression on his face. “Well, there’s your killer then.”

  Ella didn’t want to commit to anything, so she simply nodded, turning to leave.

  “I should probably tell ya, Darren wasn’t alone in the woods.”

  Ella stopped in her steps. “What? Who was he with?”

  “Don’t know. Some gal.”

  “Can you be more specific? Was it his wife?”

  “Don’t think so. She was farther away and ran when she spotted me. But I’d seen her face around town. Darren’s wife’s what you call memorable. This gal was not. Unattractive, older type. Had a blanket around her shoulders.”

  Ella sucked in a breath. “Maria?”

  “I told you. I dunno her name.”

  Ella thanked him and drifted out of the bar, her mind churning. What in Blackbeard’s Ghost was Maria the art teacher doing with Darren Alexander in the woods?

  Before Ella knew it, she’d already walked under the canopy of stars and was entering Keystone Inn. She turned left, down a short hallway, following laughter all the way to the parlor.

  Wink, Flo, Rose, and Jimmy sat at a card table, playing Bridge. The warm glow of light from electric lamps and kerosene lanterns filled the room with comfort. Ella dropped to the couch, watching them play. Although Rose had tried to teach her the game, it hadn’t taken. Maybe she could pick up the rules via osmosis. However, shortly after sitting, they wound down for the night.

  “That was the last trick,” Rose said.

  They tallied up their scores, and when it was pronounced that Flo and Wink were the winners, it resulted in both elderly women doing a strange victory dance that was sure to break their hips.

  “Good Lord.” Ella recoiled then held her hand up, shielding the spectacle before it became a permanent image in her brain. “What is that? You look like two Jack-in-the-Box toys.”

  “Well, that’s our cue to hit the hay.” Jimmy stood, stretching and yawning.

  “You’re leaving me with these two peanuts?”

  “Hey, once they start dancing, we’re under no obligation to stay.”

  “That’s dancing.” In one synchronized movement, both elder ladies flipped Ella the bird. “Real cute.”

  Once Jimmy and Rose had disappeared down the hall, Wink settled onto the couch beside Ella. Flo began to shuffle after the two innkeepers, mumbling about wanting to finish a project, before Ella stopped her.

  Her hand still up, she waited, listening, to be sure Rose and Jimmy were on the other side of the manor. “I thought you’d both want an update on the investigation.”

  Wink nodded enthusiastically while Flo glanced wistfully in the direction of the distant basement door that led to her workshop (laboratory).

  “Yeah, fine. Why not?”

  “That’s the spirit.” Ella patted the cushion on the other side of her. Flo walked right past it and sat in the wing chair near the fireplace. “Sure, that works too.”

  Dropping her voice, she told them about her conversation with Chapman, including Mrs. Alexander reporting her husband missing. She finished with what Six had told her.

  “Darren and Maria must’ve been the two people Leif saw near his cabin,” she finished.

  Wink’s mouth worked back and forth silently as if her lips were connected to her thoughts.

  Flo glared at Ella. “You went to the Half Penny without me?”

  “Yes, well—”

  “I don’t believe you. Of all the insensitive things…” She climbed to her feet and stormed out of the parlor.

  Ella stared at the now empty passageway. “Is she seriously mad? I didn’t even get a drink for myself. I was there about five minutes.”

  “She’s fine. Sometimes, she pretends to be mad so she can storm out when she has some other place she would rather be.”

  It was a bit juvenile of a move, but Ella filed it away in case she needed to do something similar at a later date. “I mean, she really didn’t have to stay and listen. It’s not like I put a gun to her head.”

  “Oh, she wants to know about the pirate just as much as you do.”

  “Because of the buried treasure?”

  Her boss smiled, impressed. “You’ve really got her number.”

  “I guess it helps that we live under the same roof.”

  “So.”

  “So,” Ella repeated.

  “Maria and Darren.”

  “Do you think he was having an affair with her?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d suspected two people canoodling in the woods. The last time, she’d suspected Jimmy of cheating on Rose, and she’d been dead wrong on that assumption.

  Wink was slow to respond. “I’m not sure. I can’t say as I know him all that well. Either of them, for that matter.”

  “This is going to sound very mean, but I’m just going to come right out and say it: who would cheat on that woman he’s married to with Maria? Mrs. Alexander is gorgeous, and Maria is, well, shall we say plain? Based on looks alone—which I know has little weight in a healthy marriage—I struggle to see the appeal.”

  “When it comes to philandering, I find it never makes much sense.”

  “That’s true.” Ella tucked her knees up, resting her chin on top. The move would’ve been a breeze a few weeks ago, but she found with Wink’s uptick in frequency of cookie baking and donuts at the diner, her belly was beginning to get in the way.

  “Let’s talk through this,” she continued. “Darren had the most motive to kill the privateer, or at least wanted the treasure bad enough to kill. Also, there’s the whole part where he fled. But why take out the one person who could tell him where the treasure was buried? Again, assuming there ever was a treasure.” Her head rose. “What if he found out there wasn’t a treasure?”

  Wink nodded. “I saw how passionately dogged that man hunted the pirate. I believe he’d kill if he found out there wasn’t a treasure.”

  “Okay. So that’s one theory. But why get rid of the body?”

  “Perhaps there was something about the way the pirate was killed that would give away the murderer?” Wink suggested.

  “That makes sense. And Darren didn’t want to get fingered for the murder, so he buried the evidence. But why make sure someone saw him dead in the first place? And why hang him? I’m sure there are much easier methods to kill someone. Heck, I bet Flo’s got a few of them in the basement as we speak.”

  Wink’s gaze had shifted to some far off point, and she’d fallen silent.

  “What are you thinking?” Ella asked.

  “What if we’re thinking about this all wrong? What if there is no killer?”

  “I thought you believed me?” Ella couldn’t help the slight pain in her voice.

  “I do. I just mean, have you considered the thought that maybe the pirate killed himself?” Wink shifted around to face Ella better. Her pink bob had lost much of its curl, frayed from a long day cooking and baking. “The man had lost his crew in the wreck, didn’t have any friends to speak of, and was being hounded by treasure hunters to the point he had to go into hidi
ng.”

  “It’s possible, but we’re still back to the questions of who moved the body? And why?” Ella frowned, the word “friends” had triggered a deluge of thoughts like a gunshot releasing an avalanche. “Maria was the closest thing the pirate had to a friend, right?” At Wink’s nod, she forged ahead. “And Darren was, in a way, the privateer’s enemy. So, why is it that Six saw Darren and Maria together?”

  “Perhaps she was trying to talk him into leaving the poor man alone,” Wink reasoned.

  “That would make sense.”

  She hoped that was the case because then it would mean a nice gesture performed for a man who was about to meet his maker, and she wanted to believe the world held that much good still. But another part of her, a part she didn’t voice aloud, was strategizing ways to approach the art teacher about Darren.

  From behind them, Flo’s voice creaked out, causing both of them to jump.

  “Looks like we need to look into Maria some more.”

  “What the—how long have you been standing there?” Ella clutched her chest.

  “Too long. Rose did the laundry earlier, and she used that foo-foo stuff. It smells like a garden in my shop now, and I can’t work.”

  “Yes, that would be horrible to have a workspace that smelled like flowers.” Ella rolled her eyes. “How terrible for you.”

  “By ‘foo-foo stuff’,” Wink asked, “do you mean laundry detergent?”

  Flo ignored her, shuffling into the room. “It’s a good thing I overheard you two yapping. So, when are we doing this?”

  Ella and Wink looked at each other before Ella asked, “Doing what?”

  “Putting the screws to Maria, ‘course.”

  “I had just been thinking about talking with her before you came in and stunk up the place.”

  Flo rubbed her palms together. “Another art class?”

  “Oh, no.” Wink held her hands up. “Not after you got us kicked out of that last one.”

  “Hey, that was Ella.”

  “What?” Ella screeched. Closing her eyes, she sucked in a breath, counting silently in her head, then said, “I’m letting that comment go. Here’s a novel idea, why don’t we just visit her before her class and ask her some questions?”

  “You mean, questions like, ‘Why were you hanging around Darren the day of the murder?’ and ‘Where were you all day?’” Flo shook her head, the entire tower of gray coif wobbling atop her head. “Yeah, that’ll work out really well, Poodle Head.”

  Ella hissed out a breath, turning to Wink. “Crazy here does have a point.”

  The internal battle was evident in the diner owner’s expression. She seemed to relent finally. “Fine. We go to another art class on one condition: Flo can’t bring her purse.”

  “Agreed,” Ella said before Flo could protest. They both turned to the older woman.

  Flo’s chin jutted out, and she crossed her arms. “And if a ghost attacks us?”

  “Well, that does seem to happen a lot—I’m sorry,” Ella said, grinning. “I can’t keep a straight face. Let me try again.” She cleared her throat, pulling the corners of her mouth down with her fingers. “That is an excellent point, Florence Henderson—not of The Brady Bunch fame. But it’s a chance we’re going to have to take.”

  After a few more rounds of going at it, Flo finally assented to their terms. They would meet up the next day for art class around 5:00 in the evening to see what they could subtly glean from Maria.

  Whatever answers they discovered, one thing was clear: without a body, it was going to be very hard to find the killer.

  Chapter 12

  ELLA’S MOUTH STRETCHED in a wide yawn before dipping into her coffee. It wasn’t until she blinked that she realized she’d been staring at the full moon on display in the diner curtesy of one of the installers. Thankfully, the two were finally closing in on the end of the metal railcar. She’d never seen vinyl laid so slowly. Maybe they were getting paid by the hour.

  She averted her gaze and stifled another yawn. When Wink left the night before, they had a tentative plan in place for art class that was little more than “be friendly and ask Maria about her love life.” After that, Ella had stayed up to sift through the periodicals she’d checked out from the library. They were filled with papers of concepts she could barely grasp, but they’d done a fine job of putting her to sleep.

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t found anything submitted by the professor, but she’d only made it through one publication. There was still a stack to wade through deeper than the Mariana Trench.

  An older lady approached the register, purse in hand. Ella greeted her and totaled her bill.

  “That’ll be $3.75.” It still took her by surprise at how affordable meals were in Keystone. Of course, minimum wage was half of what she was used to. “Will that be cash, check, or trade?”

  The woman’s veiny hand dug around, and she pulled out a tube of lipstick as opposed to money.

  “What about this? Only been used a couple of times.” The tube itself was gorgeous, gold with red flowers vining around it. “It’s Besame.” The cap came off with a metallic pop, and she tipped it to reveal a blueish red shade of lipstick.

  “That’s gorgeous, but we can only accept trade that’s practical for the diner—” her words were cut off as Wink intercepted the beauty product, knocking Ella aside.

  “Oh,” Wink cooed. “I haven’t seen one of these for a while.”

  Ella continued to stare at her boss. “Where the devil did you just come from?” She could’ve sworn Wink had been in the kitchen. The woman had some sort of internal homing beacon for makeup.

  Wink ignored her and glanced at the total on the ancient till. “Gertie, you know this tube is worth more than the meal.”

  “I know, but I wanted to settle my tab, too.”

  Wink nodded and told Ella she would take care of the transaction. Sighing, Ella left the two women to haggle, and last she saw, the diner owner was retrieving the worn ledger from under the register.

  After topping off her coffee, she trudged into the kitchen, grimacing at the extra strong brew Wink had made. Mud indeed.

  She poured several tablespoons worth of creamer into it, stirred, and sipped again. Setting aside the cup, she noticed two-dozen caramel shortbread squares cooling on the counter beneath the passthrough window.

  Ella looked at Horatio then at the passthrough where Wink’s voice drifted through. Taking a rag, she scrubbed the counters, whistling as she edged nearer the shortbread squares.

  Another glance over confirmed that Horatio was still busy, his back to her. She snatched a square and had it partway to her lips.

  “Ella!”

  Ella dropped the square, her heart pounding. “What?”

  Wink was calling her from the diner.

  Swallowing past her suddenly parched throat, Ella went to see what Wink wanted. She must’ve had a guilty expression on her face because the moment she stepped up to the lunch counter, Wink eyed her.

  “You alright?”

  “Fine. Did you need something?”

  Gertie had left, and the diner now lay empty—save for the twin mooners pounding away over in the corner.

  “No, I thought you might want to take off early today, after the lunch rush, of course.”

  Ella brightened. “Yeah, that’d be great. There are a few things I want to get done before art class tonight.” She hesitated, wondering if she should tell Wink yet or not about her search into the professor’s past. Maybe not until she had something more concrete.

  The rest of the morning dragged, crawling into an afternoon that picked up before quickly dying again. Ella had just finished polishing the chrome on the milkshake machine when Wink told her to head on out.

  After grabbing an apple turnover followed by a banana (to make herself feel healthier), Ella settled into the inn’s two-story library for some intense research. Sunshine poured through the windows, making the room warm and drowsy. The pages of the Physical Review whispered
with each turn.

  Nearly an hour later, her brain felt like it was going to implode, so she stretched and took a break by walking along the stacks of books. This was her kind of exercise.

  Scanning the spines, she stopped when she spotted a historical encyclopedia on ships from around the world. She couldn’t believe her luck.

  Why was the hefty book even in this library? Spanning the rest of the shelf on either side of the encyclopedia were more nautically themed books, all topically related to ships, both nonfiction and fiction. The previous owner Bugsy Schultz’s parents must have had an affinity for vessels or the sea or both.

  It was a long shot but perhaps, at the very least, she could narrow the time from which the pirate’s wrecked ship came. Settling into the wing chair beside the empty fireplace, she flipped through entries in the book, scanning detailed drawings, paintings, and black and white photographs of various ships. Most sections dedicated a whole page to a single ship; giving detail of the class, keel, sails, tonnage, and such; before going into the specifics and history of the one represented.

  She wished she’d taken a picture of the busted up boat. Her questionable memory would have to suffice, and, worst case scenario, she could drive then hike back to the wreck to get photos. It appeared that the boats were categorized by region first then chronological, before moving on to another region.

  She’d just finished scanning through Sweden’s sailing ships when she flipped over to the section on Spain’s. Page after page. By the feel of the paper and the crisp smell filling her nostrils, the book had scarcely been cracked open.

  The heading of one page caught her attention: “1715 Treasure Fleet.”

  The term rolled around, tickling a distant memory. She vaguely recalled watching a movie centered around the Treasure Fleet. Something about a Spanish convoy of ships wrecking off the coast of Florida during a hurricane, thereby losing a large treasure.

  Pausing, Ella hunkered over the book and read on. During 1715, Spain had come out of the War of Succession. Due to the war and previous losses of ships ladened with treasure, Spain was in desperate financial straits.