by Morgan Brice
“Did Robert ever say anything odd about any of the items in the store? Like that maybe they were haunted, or something like that?”
Susan studied him for a moment before she answered. “Robert was a fascinating man. He’d been in the military and been posted around the world. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who was better read, and he read a wide variety of books—history, biography, myth, religion. Non-fiction, mostly, although he’d toss in a classic or a bestseller from time to time.”
She looked wistful. “We used to get together for coffee at least once a week and talk about books, the garden, stuff like that. Sometimes there’d be some bit of local history that came up, and whenever it did—and ghosts were mentioned, as they often are—Robert never pooh-poohed the idea like some people do. He said that so many cultures have legends and beliefs about spirits, there had to be a grain of truth in it somewhere.”
“Did he ever say he saw ghosts?”
“In Cape May, it’s more rare to find someone who hasn’t. I don’t know that I ever asked him. But he did tell me that every object has a story to tell, if you’re willing to listen.”
“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” Erik said, although his heart skipped a beat.
He’d pounced on the real estate listing for Trinkets almost as soon as it had gone live online, something uncharacteristically impulsive for him, but he hadn’t been able to resist. Robert had agreed to sell after a single conversation, handing off the shop and house at an extremely reasonable price. And from the time Erik had walked in the door, he’d felt that he belonged here.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say it sounded like fate.
“Yoo-hoo. Erik?” Susan’s prompt told him he’d zoned out. “I texted you the names of the people I can think of, off the top of my head, who would probably be willing to talk to you about the Commodore. If you can’t find their numbers online, let me know, and I’m sure I can dig them up. They probably still have landlines, so I imagine they’re in the phone book, if you can find one. Just tell them I sent you.”
“Thank you,” Erik said. “You’re a lifesaver.”
“I just want to hear the stories, maybe over another batch of cookies?”
“Deal,” Erik confirmed, laughing. “I’ll share all the juicy gossip.”
“Speaking of which—there are a couple of people who should go to the top of the list. You’ve already met Jaxon. Most of the time, there’s no scoop worth knowing that he doesn’t know. Sherri and Jo, down at The Spike, have been here for about twenty-five years. They know everyone and hear everything, so that’s a possibility.”
She chewed her lip as if debating what else to say. “Alessia Mason runs the Spirit of the Sea gift shop. She’s married into one of the old Cape May families, and she’s also a witch.”
“Come again?” Erik wasn’t sure whether Susan meant that literally or was dishing on Alessia’s personality.
“I’m not telling tales. She makes no bones about it. Alessia is a practicing witch, from an old Sicilian family on her mother’s side. Head of the local coven—very preppy witches, but witches nonetheless.”
“Interesting.”
“And then there’s Monty. Have you met him yet?”
Erik shook his head. “Short for Montgomery?”
“Nope. Montana. Monty Clark is the ranger at the lighthouse and a real-deal psychic medium. He’s every bit as good as that local guy who writes all the books. Monty leads some ghost tours now and again, but mostly he does private readings. He might be able to ‘put you in touch’ with some other sources, if you know what I mean.”
Interviewing ghosts for intel from beyond the grave hadn’t crossed Erik’s mind, but he wasn’t about to rule anything out. “That’s definitely someone I need to meet,” Erik said.
Susan grinned. “Glad to help. And don’t worry—I won’t spill the beans about your box. In fact, I’m dying to know what all you’ve got there, so if you need a hand going through it, I’m happy to help. I work cheap,” she added, grabbing a third cookie.
The offer was tempting, but a glance at his phone told Erik it was almost time to meet Ben. “I would love your help, but not tonight. I’m meeting someone.”
“It wouldn’t happen to be that hot new guy at the rental office, by any chance?”
Erik blushed, which he seemed to be doing more of lately. “Maybe.”
Susan gave a little squeal and clapped her hands, sounding more sixteen than sixty. “Ooh! I knew it. I thought I saw you two walking toward town the other night.”
That might also mean she saw Erik coming home that morning in the same outfit, a dead giveaway to where he’d been. He wasn’t going to ask.
“It was just dinner,” he said, although that certainly hadn’t been all it turned out to be.
“You have to start somewhere,” she replied with a gleam in her eye. “He’s handsome. I totally approve.”
“Yeah. He is.” Erik felt his heart go a little fluttery, something that had never happened even during his best days with Josh. He might have wondered about it longer, but Susan started speaking.
“You know, I remember him and his cousin biking around here when they were teenagers. They were always going too fast, riding where they weren’t supposed to, that sort of thing. Meg and Stewart—his aunt and uncle—are good people. So’s Sean, their boy. I hear he wanted to run a restaurant or some such up in Wildwood. Probably why they brought in their nephew to run their business.”
From a couple of the comments Ben had made, Erik wasn’t sure that was as much of a done deal as Susan made it sound, but he couldn’t help hoping that would change if things worked out. The fact that Ben brought out feelings Erik had never felt for anyone else—not even Josh—made him worried that he’d fallen too hard, too fast, for someone he might not even be able to keep.
Maybe I’m imagining things and making stuff up that wasn’t really there…or better yet, I’m not and can give him another reason to stay, Erik thought.
“Don’t you need to get ready? I don’t want to make you late for your big date,” Susan teased. She swiped another cookie and gave him a mischievous smile. “One for the road. And I’ll bring some homemade chocolate chip cookies tomorrow, to sustain us as we delve into the mysteries of the box.” She waggled her fingers at him and let herself out the door.
Ben pulled up outside Trinkets in a black Mustang and Erik’s heart did a little flip. Having a gorgeous man with sexy tattoos pick him up in a rumbling muscle car definitely pressed all the right buttons.
“Still okay with seafood?” Ben grinned as Erik climbed in the car.
“Better than okay. I had a sandwich for lunch, and I’m starved.”
Fisher’s Seafood sprawled along the marina, providing a view of boats and the water. “You can get whatever you want here,” Ben told him as they walked from the parking lot. “Broiled, fried, fancy sit-down, takeout, walk-up—it’s all good, and everything’s fresh off the boat.”
When Erik headed for the walk-up counter, Ben caught his arm. “Nope. In here.” He led Erik into the main restaurant, complete with candles and white tablecloths.
“Got us a reservation,” Ben said. “I wanted to take you on a proper date this time.”
Erik smiled. “I like the sound of that.”
Their table in a quiet corner promised that no one would overhear them. Erik looked over the menu, finding it full of even more enticing options than the Greek place the night before.
“Everything looks really good.”
“I’ve never had something here that wasn’t,” Ben replied. “I don’t think you can go wrong.”
They agreed on an appetizer of hot crab dip with toast points and crab-stuffed jalapeño peppers. Erik couldn’t resist the lobster roll, while Ben went for linguini with clam sauce. While they waited for their food, Ben filled Erik in on the last round of properties he’d toured with Sean, and Erik caught him up on how the inventory had gone.
Once the food c
ame, Erik paused to take a deep breath, inhaling the delicious scents of fresh seafood, butter, and cheese.
“Wow. If it tastes as good as it smells, I’m going to be in a food coma for days.”
“It’s pretty amazing. The owners have had forty years to perfect their game. The place is a legend.”
Ben listened intently as Erik filled him in on the Kramer house and Susan’s input. Erik didn’t want to mention the box in public, and Ben must have picked up on the same vibes, because he didn’t ask.
“So tomorrow I’m going to see some of the people Susan suggested,” Erik said. “I’ve already called three of them, which is about what I can handle and still get the inventory finished.”
“I’ve got to go do a walk-through on a unit we’re remodeling, and work through some issues,” Ben said. “Otherwise, I’d love to go with you.”
“I wish you could. But they might talk more easily to one person instead of two.” He grinned. “And if we both went, we’d have to come up with fake FBI names from seventies rock bands, like those guys on TV.”
Ben laughed and Erik drank in the sound. He’d never been so thoroughly, dangerously, besotted with someone, and it both thrilled and terrified him. The high was so good, he didn’t want to even consider how he’d survive if it crashed and burned. Tonight, Erik intended to push that thought from his mind.
“I guess you’re right,” Ben replied. “But I did get a look at the deed for the house where we found the…item. It really was in the same family all those years. But get this…one of the owner’s daughters was married to the manager of the Commodore Wilson, around the time the item would have gone missing.”
“So the real question is, was the husband in on the theft and scam, or playing a different game with what was stashed inside?” Erik asked.
“If his other game was blackmail, he picked a hell of a target.” Vincente Cafaro wouldn’t have taken a blackmail threat lightly, and Erik couldn’t imagine a man like that paying. He’d have been much more likely to eliminate the threat. Maybe someone beat him to the draw.
“My friend Simon got his cousin to run that…item…through a database of insurance claims,” Erik said. “It was reported stolen about six months before Cafaro died. Decently large payout, too. Not that the piece itself is that valuable, but there was some provenance about it having been owned by European royalty. Which means the big question is—when did someone switch out the real for the fake?”
“I called in some favors and got a few leads myself,” Ben continued. “One of the guys I left on good terms with in Newark—one of the few—knew a cop up here who was friends with his dad. The guy’s retired now, but he’s still in town, and he’d be old enough to remember at least some of the Commodore’s run. I’m meeting him for lunch tomorrow.”
“I want to hear all about it,” Erik replied. “And I’ll catch you up on my meetings. Even if there’s no one left to prosecute, it would feel good knowing we solved the mystery.”
The sun was low in the sky when they left the marina. Erik was surprised when Ben turned right instead of left. “Where are we going?”
“Best place in Cape May to watch the sunset,” Ben replied with an enigmatic smile.
Erik was really confused when Ben drove through the gates to the Lewes Ferry parking lot. “You want to go to Delaware?”
“Nope. My aunt told me about this place. They just built a brand-new terminal, and there’s a bar downstairs where the locals hang out in tourist season to avoid the madhouse.” He parked and waited for Erik to get out, then led him by the hand around the bar area to the other side, and climbed a set of outdoor steps to a balcony.
From there, they had a view of the harbor, and off to the right, a magnificent sunset.
“This is gorgeous,” Erik whispered. The breeze ruffled his hair, and Ben wrapped his arms around Erik, keeping him warm. They watched the sun go down like that, with Erik’s head on Ben’s shoulder, hands clasped together in the front, Ben’s solid body pressed close behind him. As the last of the light faded, Ben turned Erik in his arms to face him.
“Thank you,” Erik said. “This was beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful,” Ben replied, lifting his fingers to touch Erik’s hair, and then his cheek. He ran the pad of his thumb over Erik’s lips. “And I want to get to know you.”
Erik’s hand caressed Ben’s cheek, and Ben leaned his face against it, turning to press a kiss to his palm. “I want to get to know you, too,” Erik replied. I care. More than I should. More than is safe. More than I can control. I’m in too deep already, but it’s too late to back out now.
“Want to come up to my place?” Erik offered. “Turnabout’s fair play, after all.”
“I’d like that.” Ben’s voice was husky. “I’d like that a lot.”
Ben’s phone shrilled with an odd ring. “Shit. It’s the alarm company. I have to take this.” Ben took the call, keeping Erik close against him.
“Mr. Nolan? The alarm at your office is going off. Police have been dispatched. We need you to meet them there.”
Ben let out a long breath. “Okay. I’m on my way.” He buried his face against Erik’s hair. “Sorry, baby. I’ve got to go.”
“I’ll go with you.”
Ben stilled, then shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Erik started to protest. “Hear me out,” Ben cut him off. “We don’t keep cash in the office. The computers aren’t new—they aren’t worth stealing. So why break in? Unless someone knew I found the clock and thought they’d find it there. And if you go with me, it might make them take a second look at Trinkets.”
“Assuming they don’t already know we’re together,” Erik countered.
“Maybe. So I’m going to take you home and walk you to your door like a proper gentleman, and then go meet the cops. And I want you to lock up and put the alarms on.” He kissed Erik on the lips, long and lingering. “This is probably going to tie me up for most of the evening. Can I take a rain check on coming over? I’d love to see your place. Maybe we can break it in properly,” he added with a wicked smile that went right to Erik’s cock.
“Definitely,” Erik replied, returning the kiss far too briefly. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Ten
Ben
By the time Ben reached Nolan Resort Real Estate, the cops were in full swing. “I’m Ben Nolan. I was a little ways out of town when I got the call. What happened?”
“Your alarm company called us. Something tripped the system.” The officer who responded was a tall black man whose name tag read: Dorchester. “By the time we arrived, no one was around. But the back door appears to have been forced.”
Ben followed Officer Dorchester around back, where a few technicians were still taking photographs. “You’re the only one who could say if anything’s been taken,” the officer continued. “Although they left the office computers and the TV monitor in the lobby.”
Ben led them around to the front and let them in the main door, so they didn’t disturb the technicians. “Did you check the upstairs door? That’s my apartment. Did they break in there, too?”
Dorchester shook his head. “No. And there’s no sign that they tried to, either. Do you keep anything valuable in the office? Petty cash, maybe? Keys?”
Ben shook his head. “No cash. Everything is either credit, checks, or direct transfer these days. As for the keys…” He pointed to the safe beneath the desk in the rear office, which remained bolted to the floor. “They’re in the safe.”
“What about sensitive records? Financial information on your clients?”
“The filing cabinets are all locked, and they’d need a crowbar or more to get into them. Seems like a lot of work to get a small number of credit card numbers. They’d do better scamming cards at a restaurant.”
The cop gave him a look. Ben sighed. “Former Newark PD. If there’s a way for someone to steal card numbers, I’ve busted them for doing it. Think I’ve seen it all.”
&nbs
p; “You’re new in town? Any chance one of your old cases followed you here?” The officer sounded a little less friendly, and Ben chalked it up to a resort town cop who didn’t like big city police encroaching.
“Doubt it. Been off the force for two years going on three.” He didn’t mention his investigator gig, deciding the cop didn’t need one more reason to dislike him.
“Do you have any idea what someone might have been looking for?”
Ben shook his head. “No. My aunt and uncle have run this business for decades. They never had a problem. I haven’t changed anything.”
“So you’re the new boss?”
A week ago, Ben would have made a quip about seeing how the summer went. But the more time he spent with Erik, the less the idea of leaving Cape May appealed to him. “Yeah. I guess I am.”
“We’ll see if we can get some prints from around the door, but if you can’t confirm that there’s been a theft, all we can charge someone on is breaking and entering.”
Ben felt certain that the break-in had something to do with the clock, but he also knew the cop wouldn’t care for his theories. “If you can find out who did it, I’ll sleep better,” he replied. “And even if it’s just B&E, I’ll press charges.”
The cop shrugged. “We’ll keep you informed. In the meantime, I’ve got some paperwork for you to fill out.”
By the time the cops finally left, it was after ten and Ben was exhausted. He trudged up the stairs to his apartment, checked the door—just in case—and went inside.
The apartment still smelled of coffee and toast—and Erik. Ben dug out his phone and saw he’d missed a message.
Everything okay? Call me, maybe? A string of emojis followed, including a smiley face, a heart, and an eggplant.
Ben sat on the couch, remembering how vulnerable Erik had been the night before, and how good it felt to hold him tight and help him fight off his demons. Ben called, and Erik answered on the first ring.
