Lantern Beach Mysteries Box Set Page 10

  “Sarge and Phil were both up for a promotion. Rumor had it that Sarge was going to get it.”

  “But killing Sarge wouldn’t ensure he’d get the promotion. Especially when it was so obvious that he’d look guilty of the murder.”

  Diane’s eyes lit. “Exactly! That’s what I say too. At least someone else finally agrees with me. I’m not sure the police here know what they’re doing.”

  “The tricky thing for the police,” Cassidy started, licking her lips as she cautiously proceeded, “will be figuring out who has motive, means, and opportunity to kill Sarge.”

  “I suppose they don’t have that many suspects,” Diane said before her eyes lit with what looked like realization. “You know, Sarge was in a fender bender the day before he died. Someone backed into him, and I guess they had a heated argument.”

  “Heated enough to kill over?” It seemed unlikely, but people had killed for stranger reasons. One of her first homicides involved two men who’d been involved in a case of road rage. It had made one of them mad enough to murder.

  “I didn’t ask for details. It didn’t seem that important at the time.”

  “Understandable.”

  She stared off in the distance for a minute. “One of his ex-wives really hated him,” she finally said. “I think her name is Lydia. If she was here, I’d definitely point the finger at her. And even stranger? She’s a captain.”

  “A police captain? Military?”

  Diane chuckled, but the sound was short-lived, as if she realized what she was doing and guilt had flooded her. “No, I’m sorry. She’s a boat captain and does tours mostly up in Chicago where she lives now. But she definitely knows how to navigate some water. At least, that’s what Sarge always said.”

  “That would be interesting if she was in town. You haven’t seen her here, have you?”

  “No, of course not. You’re talking about it like you might track her down. Are you a PI when you’re not driving that thing?”

  Cassidy needed to play this off. “No, but maybe I should consider it. There’s just something about listening to your story that makes me want to fight for justice.”

  “Honey, I won’t turn away anyone who wants to fight for justice for me.”

  With that said . . . “Can I ask you a really weird question, Diane?”

  Diane glanced back at her kids. They’d finished their ice cream and now chased each other through the yard. “Sure.”

  “Where’s the rest of the gang staying? Here on this street?” That seemed to be what most families who vacationed together did—they tried to get houses close to one another.

  She let out a sardonic chuckle. “No way. They’re too high class for that—or at least they pretend to be. They’re staying oceanside across the street. Why do you ask?”

  “I’m just curious. You know, I see a lot on my routes. I’ll keep an eye open for anything suspicious.”

  “Thank you. I’d appreciate that. It would certainly be nice to have someone watching my back.”

  That’s what Cassidy was doing. She was watching Diane’s back. Nothing more.

  As soon as Cassidy left Diane’s place, she headed across the highway to where the rest of the Hamby Investments crew was staying. She wanted to get a better idea of who these other people were so she could watch Diane’s back. Of course. Because that’s all she was doing.

  Besides, this murder most likely boiled down to motive.

  Why had someone killed Sarge? Was it someone he knew? If so, that would narrow it down to the people he came here with. Unless it was his ex-wife. But what was the chance she was here?

  Was this crime random? Maybe Phil and Sarge stumbled on a drug deal. But if that was the case, why hadn’t Phil been killed as well? And what about the gunshot residue on Phil’s hands?

  She slowed as she reached the end of the other lane and stared at the huge three-story houses located there. Dunes surrounded the structures, and on the other side of the sand lay the vast and beautiful ocean.

  A group of people had gathered outside at one of the houses. Was this the group from Hamby Investments? The ages and profile fit.

  While they didn’t seem jolly, they certainly didn’t seem to be grieving either. They all had beers in their hands. They were probably using alcohol to numb the pain.

  But they hadn’t included Diane. Or was it that she just hadn’t come?

  Cassidy drew in a deep breath before pulling up and waving at them. There was only one way to get some answers.

  She needed to talk to these people.

  And be subtle about her motives.

  “Anyone want some ice cream?” Cassidy called. Sounding so cheerful was so totally not like her.

  The group stopped talking and stared at her. Finally, the silence broke and one of the guys started toward her. Walter Hamby. Cassidy recognized him, with his silver hair and trim build, from her online search.

  “It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten any ice cream from a truck like this,” he said.

  “It brings back memories, doesn’t it?” She said it as if she’d experienced this kind of life as a child. She hadn’t.

  Walter pulled out his wallet. “I’ll have one of those snow cones.”

  “Great choice.” She climbed in the back and found what he asked for. As she handed it to him, she asked, “Where are you from?”

  “Maryland,” he said.

  “Lantern Beach is a great place for vacation.”

  His smile disappeared. “Well, normally I’d agree. This trip hasn’t quite been all we’d hoped for.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  He shrugged and seemed to mentally switch gears, as if he’d said too much. “That’s life, I suppose.”

  “Well, I hope things change for you.”

  Walter smiled a tight smile. “Thank you.”

  “I always find the ocean makes me feel better. There’s no better way to clear my head than by being surrounded by miles and miles of nothing but water.”

  “Well, that might be nice . . . except I get seasick.”

  “Too bad.” She glanced beyond him. “Does anyone else want anything?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. All the women are getting ready to get pampered at the spa in town. They’re making it a daily thing while they’re here.”

  “That’s great.”

  He tried to smile again. “Okay, take care.”

  “Enjoy that snow cone!”

  “Will do.” She may have given him a cool treat for a hot day, but she’d gotten so much more in return.

  She had a new rabbit hole to go down.

  Chapter 16

  Cassidy tried to get an appointment at the one and only salon and spa in town. They were booked. So she made an appointment for tomorrow instead. At three o’clock. Which she could only assume was the time the other women went to the spa.

  Sure, it was peak ice cream-selling time, but how else was she going to get any answers?

  One thing kept nagging at her since her conversation with Diane. That piece of the boat that had washed ashore. She didn’t know how she was going to explain her interest in it, but she had to turn it over to the police. What if it was the key to catching this killer, and she was the only one getting in the way of Phil being cleared?

  So she headed back to her place, grabbed the evidence, and headed to the police headquarters.

  She strode up to the counter once inside and plastered on her most winning smile. “Can I see the chief?”

  “He’s not here. Can I help you?”

  Cassidy licked her lips. “It’s pertaining to the dead man who washed ashore. I was hoping to speak with someone.”

  The receptionist eyed her another moment before nodding. “One minute.”

  One of the deputies appeared out of the doorway a few seconds later. His eyes lit when he saw her. “Can I help you?”

  She squirmed as if uncomfortable and quickly glanced at the name badge of the tall, gangly man.
Quinton. “Officer Quinton, could I speak to you . . . in private?”

  He nodded a little too quickly. “Of course. Come back to my office.”

  She stepped inside the small, crowded space and shifted the item she held in her hands. Gingerly, she placed it on his desk and unwrapped the beach towel. “I found this on the beach.”

  She revealed the broken piece of boat.

  Quinton stared at her. “Okay . . . I’m not really sure that there’s a crime in something washing up on the beach.”

  “Oh, of course not.” She giggled. “But I wondered if this might somehow be tied in with that murder that happened on the island.”

  He squinted and scratched his head. “Why would you think that?”

  “Wasn’t the man fishing? And didn’t the boat capsize? That’s the rumor going around town.”

  He straightened ever-so-slightly. “Well, yes, that did happen.”

  “So when I saw this, I thought it might have come off that boat.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. We found the boat that capsized.”

  Her pulse spiked. “Did you? Are you sure this doesn’t belong to it?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But . . .” She pouted. “I don’t know. I really thought this was related.”

  “I’m sorry to burst your bubble.”

  She shifted, trying a different tactic. “Where is the other boat?”

  “The one from the crime scene? It’s out back. Why?”

  “Because something inside me keeps thinking this is related. I have senses about these things. I sensed my cousin would marry Fred Gallagher, and ten years later she did.”

  “You . . . sense things?”

  She nodded.

  Quinton seemed to snap from his moment of being impressed and went back to being aloof. “I can assure you it’s not connected. I can show you for yourself, if you’d like.”

  Cassidy’s eyes widened. “You mean, you’d let me see the boat?”

  He hesitated but finally nodded. “That’s right.”

  “Oh, I’d feel so much better if you’d do that. And I’d feel . . . oh, I don’t know. I guess I’d feel a little special.” Her words made her want to gag.

  The officer beamed, as if he liked that idea. “Just don’t tell anyone.”

  She nodded quickly. “Oh, I won’t.”

  He motioned for her to follow him. They went down a hallway before finally exiting into a fenced-off area behind the police headquarters. It hadn’t even been visible from the front of the building because of the low trees and shrubs surrounding it. Her eyes fixated on the fishing vessel there.

  What she wouldn’t do to pull on some gloves and check out the watercraft for herself. But she needed to take it easy right now. She was already pushing her luck.

  However, she did notice the black trim around the boat. Was that what had rubbed off on the piece of boat she’d found?

  That was her best guess.

  “See. Here it is,” Quinton said.

  She circled it, trying her best to look impressed. “I’ve never been this close to evidence in a murder.”

  The officer shrugged, like it wasn’t a big deal. “It washed ashore near the Gull Street access.”

  “I’m guessing these guys—the victim and his killer—rented it?”

  “That’s right.”

  She paused by the side of the boat with the scrape. “Look at this.”

  He joined her, studied the spot, and nodded “Probably happened when the boat capsized.”

  “But that piece I brought you . . . the scrapes match up, don’t you think?” She hated sounding so clueless and uncertain, but it was her best bet.

  He didn’t say anything for a minute. Then he paused and examined the boat again. “You know, you might be right.”

  “Well, maybe I’m not good for nothing after all.” She batted her eyelashes and let out a giggle.

  “I’d never say that. I’m going to call the chief and tell him about my theory.”

  His theory? Whatever. Cassidy couldn’t worry about it. In fact, if she wanted to keep her cover, it was better if no one knew she’d had anything to do with this.

  “I’m glad I could help. And I’ll keep this between you and me.”

  Before heading home, Cassidy stopped at Skye’s fruit and vegetable stand to get some peaches and stuff to make a salad. The stand, which was set up in the corner of the parking lot of a bait and tackle store, was adorable.

  It was some type of vintage Chevy van that had been painted a bright turquoise color. But the side of the van had been removed and a pergola of sorts had been extended from the exposed side. Beneath that wooden structure were baskets upon baskets of local, homegrown food.

  Skye skittered between those baskets, wearing a flowing pink skirt that dusted the ground, a black tank top, and uncountable bracelets.

  She paused from straightening some apples, and a grin of recognition lit her face. “Oh, hey! Cassidy, right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “How’s it going for you here on Lantern Beach so far?”

  “Okay.” Cassidy knew it wouldn’t be wise to pour out all of her concerns to a mere stranger. But the idea was oddly tempting.

  “Glad to hear that.” Skye stared at Elsa for a minute, a strange look in her eyes.

  “Can I get you something?” Cassidy asked. “The ice cream sandwiches are always good.”

  Skye’s eyes widened. “Oh, no. No thanks.”

  There was that reaction again. What was with it? “There’s a story behind this truck, isn’t there?”

  Her bottom lip parted. “You don’t know.”

  “Know what?”

  “About Elsa?” She moved on from the apples and began repositioning some tomatoes and cucumbers in the little baskets displaying them.

  Maybe this was Cassidy’s chance to figure out what was going on. “What happened to Elsa?”

  Before Skye could answer, a girl—probably college age, but the spitting image of Skye—appeared from behind the van turned fruit stand with some cantaloupes in hand.

  “Aunt Skye—” She stopped in her tracks.

  “Cassidy, this is my niece Serena,” Skye said. “She’s here from Michigan to help me for the summer.”

  Serena frowned. “But I think I’m going to need another job. There’s just not enough work for the two of us.”

  An idea pinged in Cassidy’s head, a solution she’d been searching for—she just hadn’t realized it until this morning. “I could use some help.”

  Skye and Serena both turned toward her.

  Cassidy shrugged. “I mean, you have a driver’s license, right?”

  Serena nodded. “Of course.”

  “It makes for a really long day driving this truck for ten hours straight,” Cassidy said. “I’m looking to add someone else for a shift. Maybe in the evenings.”

  Besides, Serena seemed demure and understated. She might make the perfect employee.

  Serena nodded eagerly. “I’m totally interested. Do I get free ice cream?”

  “I’m sure we can arrange something.” Free ice cream was the least of her worries.

  “I’m in.”

  Cassidy turned to Skye, not wanting to get started on the wrong foot. “I’m not trying to steal your help.”

  “Oh, you’re not. She’s right. This is really a one-person job, except maybe on weekends.”

  “We could work something out,” Cassidy said.

  “When do I start?” Serena clasped her hands together in front of her, looking eager and ready.

  Cassidy remembered the mani-pedi she’d scheduled. “Tomorrow at one? I can do some training before your shift.”

  “Sounds great!” She scampered off behind the van stand again.

  Skye let out a chuckle as she watched her niece leave. “Sorry about that. She’s a good helper. Really, she is. She’s just restless and trying to find her place in the world.”

  “I understand.” Sometimes Cassidy still felt l
ike that. She just hadn’t realized it until she’d come to Lantern Beach with way too much time on her hands to think.

  “Are you sure this isn’t going to cut into your profit too much?”

  “I’m not sure of anything—except that driving for ten hours a day is tiring.”

  “I can imagine. Hey, listen. I know this might seem weird, but a few of us meet at the pier every Tuesday night for some music. Do you want to come?”

  Carefree and beach-loving. Cassidy had to keep her alternate personality in mind. “It sounds like fun.”

  Though her first thought was to stay home alone and brood, maybe getting out would be good for her.

  “Great. How about if we meet there at seven?”

  Cassidy smiled. “I’ll look forward to it.”

  She started to ask about Elsa again, but a car with Maine license plates pulled up.

  Cassidy would have to wait until later . . . again.

  Chapter 17

  Six Days Earlier

  Cady jumped to her feet as gunmen breached the front door and invaded her safe house. Her heart thumped out of control.

  They’d found her.

  DH-7 had found her.

  But how?

  She didn’t have time to think about it. Instead, she grabbed the gun at her waistband and ducked behind the couch.

  Her gaze went to the door where US Marshal Vann had stood guard. He’d been knocked to the ground when the door crashed open. From his position on the floor, he spun toward the intruders, his weapon drawn.

  But he was too late.

  The pop of a bullet being expelled filled the air. Vann clutched his chest and fell to the ground. Blood stained his torso.

  No . . .

  Metcalf, the other marshal, darted from the other side of the house. He fired at the intruder near the door. He’d only shot off one bullet when he gasped. Froze. Fell to the ground.

  No, no, no!

  Cady’s heart thumped harder. It was up to her now. Three gunmen against Cady.

  These men didn’t want to kill her outright. Now, they wanted to make her suffer. To draw out her pain. To make sure Cady understood how angry they were.