Lantern Beach Mysteries Box Set Page 5

  Unfortunately, that answer was yes. A resounding yes.

  Cassidy swept her small flashlight across the sand. She shouldn’t do this. But she couldn’t sleep anyway, so why shouldn’t she satisfy her curiosity?

  Because, even though she was a city girl, she knew one thing. Your average person who wanted to go shelling or hunting for crabs or whatever kind of sea life might be out here didn’t jump out of a boat to search and then jump back in to leave. Nope.

  She’d rushed inside her house to grab her flashlight. Right now, she kept the beam low so no one would spot her. The boaters should be far enough away by now, but she couldn’t be certain.

  Her feet dug into the soft sand, each step taking more effort than necessary. She finally took her flip-flops off and decided to go barefoot instead. She just needed to watch out for any shells or—

  Before she could complete the thought, the ground disappeared from around her.

  She landed with a thump on her rear, and darkness surrounded her.

  What . . . ?

  She glanced around, her thoughts heavy with confusion. She was in a . . . pit?

  She stood, but darkness still engulfed her.

  She drew in a deep breath. She was in one of those holes that people dug in the sand, she realized. A huge one.

  Didn’t people have to fill these in before they left? If not, she should fight to make that an ordinance here. This was ridiculous.

  She stuck her flashlight into her mouth and tried to get a foothold on the soft-sided wall. As she did, the sand crumbled around her.

  She paused and froze a minute.

  This was how people got buried and died in these holes, wasn’t it?

  Panic wanted to crawl up her spine, but she tried to hold it back. Anxiety would only serve to cripple her right now. She could hear the disapproval in her dad’s voice as he scolded her about ever being fearful by saying those very words. Like when she’d been afraid of the dark as a child. Or when her mom had been late getting home one night and Cassidy had thought the worst. Fear was never acceptable.

  Cassidy drew in a deep breath, stared at the grave around her, and decided to launch into her escape plan again. Her escape plan that just involved getting out by whatever means possible.

  She backed up, trying to get as much of a running start at possible, and then propelled herself forward. She leapt as high as she could and clawed at the sand.

  It disintegrated around her grip, giving her nothing to grab onto. She fell with a thud back onto her rump.

  This wasn’t good.

  She sat up, another idea hitting her. Maybe she could brace her legs on each side of the pit and use that leverage to climb out. It was worth a shot.

  Cassidy placed her left leg on one side of the oversized hole and stretched her right leg to the other. At least, she tried to.

  She frowned when she realized she wasn’t tall enough.

  She had to do something. What if the tide came in and filled this pit with water? She couldn’t escape DH-7 only to drown in a hole left by an irresponsible tourist.

  She just needed to think. There had to be a way out.

  But ten minutes later, she’d made no progress.

  She might have to wait until a tourist stumbled upon her in the morning. Wouldn’t that just be dandy?

  As the thought entered her mind, a rush of water invaded the space.

  She closed her eyes. Just as she’d feared. The tide was coming in. As the night drew on, the water would creep higher and higher. Most likely it would fill this death trap.

  She let out an exasperated half yell, half grunt.

  Just then, she saw a beam of light.

  She froze, unsure whether she should yell for help or hide.

  Because what if those men who were on these shores earlier had returned?

  For that matter, what if this hole hadn’t been left by a tourist at all?

  Chapter 7

  The beam hit her face.

  So much for deciding to hide.

  “Cassidy?”

  She squinted, unable to see beyond the ray of light. However, she thought she recognized the voice. “Ty?”

  “What are you doing? Don’t you know how dangerous these holes are?”

  She narrowed her eyes. “I decided I should find out myself.”

  “Not a smart idea.” He got down on his belly and extended his hand. “Here, let me help you out.”

  Cassidy hesitated but only for a minute. She had no choice but to swallow her pride for long enough to let him help. Saving a damsel in distress probably only served to boost his male ego even more than it already was. It killed her to feed that side of him.

  She grabbed his hand, which felt surprisingly strong. With his help, she scaled the wall and landed with an ungraceful plop in the sand beside her neighbor. To add insult to injury, a wave chose that minute to crash over her. Saltwater covered Cassidy’s face until she sputtered.

  Ty knelt beside her, a look of concerned amusement in his eyes. “Bad timing on that wave, huh?”

  She scowled again, wiped the water from her eyes, and sat up. “Thank you for your help.”

  She didn’t want to say the words, but the man had rescued her. No, not rescued. He’d helped her get out of a tricky situation.

  “No problem,” he said. “You have to be careful when walking out here at night.”

  She held back the “you think?” that was on the edge of her tongue and instead said, “I guess so.”

  He stood and wiped the sand from his jeans. Then he offered her a hand.

  “I’m good.” Cassidy stood on her own, copying his lead by wiping the sand from her knees.

  “Have it your way.” He shrugged.

  She quickly glanced at him. Noted the way he never seemed in a hurry—like he was perfectly in control and did things in his time. Thought about the laid-back way he spoke, like nothing ever flustered him. His slow, purposeful motions and the steadiness in his eyes.

  As he looked toward her, she quickly averted her gaze.

  She stared down at the hole instead, and her throat went dry. This situation could have turned out a lot differently. “It’s really not smart that people leave these.”

  “No, it’s not.” He kicked some sand into it. “We don’t want that happening again.”

  “No, we don’t.” As Cassidy began filling it with sand with Ty’s help, her mind wandered. “What are you doing out here anyway?”

  “My neighbor was playing this crazy music that woke me up. I decided to take a walk since I couldn’t get back to sleep. Kujo’s out here somewhere.”

  Of course he’d brought that up. “It wasn’t my fault the music started.”

  He shrugged innocently. “I was just answering your question.”

  With the last of the hole filled in, they began walking toward their houses. Kujo joined them, bounding toward them from atop a sand dune.

  After patting the canine’s head, Cassidy shoved her hands into the pockets of her jean shorts. They weren’t her first choice for pajamas, but she’d forgotten to buy any while she was out. She supposed that worked in her favor now.

  She remembered those men she’d seen on the shore. Had Ty seen them also? Was he able to pick up on any details that she’d been too far away to notice? She chewed on the thought a moment, weighing her options.

  “I thought I saw some other people out here earlier,” she ventured.

  “Did you?”

  “I did,” she said.

  “Is that why you came out here? Did you think those people made your ice cream truck start playing that super catchy tune?”

  “No, I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.” She narrowed her eyes.

  “There’s no better way to do that by falling into a pit and getting stuck.”

  Her eyes narrowed again. “You’re so funny.”

  “I try.”

  She wasn’t going to get any more from him. He was too ornery, and if she pushed too hard, Ty might get
suspicious.

  As they reached the path leading to their houses, something out of place on the shoreline in the distance caught her eye. Cassidy knew if she didn’t check it out, she’d kick herself. But she needed to be subtle.

  “I’m going to keep walking a little,” she said.

  “Sure thing,” he said. “And by the way, you’ve got a little seaweed on your cheek.”

  Yet again, her eyes narrowed. She reached for her face. Sure enough, a big, sloppy green leaf was plastered there. She pulled it off and flung it on the ground.

  “Thanks.” Her words lacked sincerity.

  “Goodnight, Cassidy. Watch out for any—”

  “Yeah, yeah.” She couldn’t bear for Ty to finish that thought. “Goodnight, Kujo.”

  She waited until he and Kujo walked away. And then she went to satisfy her curiosity.

  Cassidy knelt on the beach and picked up the white debris she’d seen wash up. It was a plastic piece of . . . something . . . about a foot long, six inches wide, and smooth—other than the jagged edge on one side where it had broken off from something. On the end were the letters “AN.” A black scrape marked the edge.

  Wait, this wasn’t plastic. It was fiberglass.

  Was this a piece of the boat?

  Did it have something to do with the dead man she’d seen earlier or was that too much of a stretch?

  Her curiosity was piqued now as possibilities lingered in her mind.

  Could this be what those men were looking for only an hour ago? Was this some kind of evidence? Again, it might be a stretch.

  But it might not be.

  She took her sweatshirt off and wrapped the debris in it. She had a feeling any kind of fingerprints would be washed off, but she wanted to preserve whatever she could.

  She held her bundle close and then started back to her house. The sooner she got there, the more at ease she would feel. Something was going on here in Lantern Beach. Though she wasn’t getting involved, she couldn’t simply walk past this potential evidence—not if there was any chance it could be important.

  Once she was back at her house with the doors locked, she set her sweatshirt on the dining room table and opened it and stared at the broken piece of fiberglass in the light.

  Yes, she’d definitely guess this was part of a boat. Perhaps the AN was a part of the vessel’s name? And the black color . . . had the boat scraped against something?

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. She was on to something. She felt certain of it. Her sureness was purely gut instinct, but she’d learned her instinct was usually spot on.

  What if those men she’d seen scouring the shoreline had tracked the current and guessed that this might wash up here on this beach? What if that’s why they’d brought their flashlights out here—if they’d been searching for this?

  Now Cassidy had to figure out what to do with the debris. She could turn it over to the police. But would they take her seriously? How would she give it to them without breaking her cover? After all, most normal people didn’t turn in debris that washed up on the beach and claim it could be linked to an investigation.

  Even worse, what if local law enforcement bungled the whole thing? Those two officers she’d seen earlier didn’t seem like the most competent investigators. Not from what she’d observed.

  Cassidy sighed and wrapped the debris back up. She was going to hide this for now. And, in the morning, she’d figure out what she should do.

  Chapter 8

  Today’s Goals: Sell ice cream. Avoid annoying neighbor. Forget about the body on the beach.

  Cassidy plastered on her friendly neighborhood ice cream woman smile as she headed down each of the gravel streets the next morning.

  She’d already had four customers, and none of them appeared to be locals. Why wouldn’t locals buy from her? Did it have something to do with Elsa? Had the truck’s previous owner made everyone mad or something?

  Was that why Ty teased her? No, he was probably just trying to mess with her head.

  Yet Ernestine’s note had advised her not to listen to what the locals said.

  She didn’t have time to ponder it now.

  As she continued on her route, Cassidy couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened yesterday. The dead body. Diane’s tears. The boat fragment on the beach.

  Against her better instincts, she’d jumped on the computer the owner had left for renters to use and had done some research on this Sarge guy.

  First, she’d looked up any local news articles. She discovered one in a paper out of the Outer Banks and another in an island publication called Lantern Outlook. The Lantern Outlook, though it was small, had an impressive online presence.

  Sarge Perkins was forty-six years old and originally from New York City. He was divorced and had one son, who was eighteen years old. Sarge had died from a single gunshot wound to the chest, and a suspect was in custody for his murder.

  Next, Cassidy had searched for information on Hamby’s company, which she discovered was called Hamby Investments Group. A Google search took her to their website. A picture of Walter Hamby smiled at users from the front page. The man was probably in his late fifties with a head full of salt-and-pepper hair.

  The company specialized in hedge funds, where they pooled capital from individuals and operated under complex portfolio construction and risk management techniques. It sounded awfully complex to Cassidy, but it would be right up her father’s alley.

  She leaned back and thought everything through. Sarge Perkins had washed up on shore with a gunshot wound to his chest. That evening the waves delivered a piece of a broken boat. Phil was charged with the crime.

  Why had Phil and Sarge gone out for some night fishing when there was an approaching storm? Where had they gotten the boat? What other enemies did Sarge have?

  What if Phil really had killed Sarge and then feigned falling overboard? What were the chances of the victim’s body washing ashore? Cassidy didn’t know.

  But Cassidy did know that Diane was devastated.

  Low profile, she reminded herself. Yet her mind wouldn’t stop turning the details of the case over in her mind.

  She remembered what she’d found on the beach.

  What if another boat pulled up after Phil fell off? What if the person on board shot Sarge and his boat was damaged in the process?

  If that was true, how had gunshot residue gotten on Phil’s hands? The bigger question in her mind was motive. Why would someone want Sarge dead? Often the guilty party was a family member, though Cassidy could hardly imagine Diane being guilty.

  The poor woman needed a friend, an advocate. She had no one here in her corner. Her husband couldn’t leave town, so Cassidy doubted Diane would want to leave yet either.

  And those poor kids.

  Low profile.

  Cassidy knew what she’d do. She’d go get something to eat. That would be the perfect distraction from thinking about Sarge’s murder and tempting herself to get involved.

  She stopped at the first restaurant she came to—a place called the Crazy Chefette. She stared at the building, having second thoughts based on the name alone. The place itself looked respectable enough: a cheerful yellow-painted brick building with pink shutters. The sign was what made her pause.

  Beside the words Crazy Chefette was a cartoonish image of a woman—a blonde woman wearing a lab coat, holding a beaker in one hand and a spatula in the other. Below the title were the words: mad food created by a crazy lady.

  This was going to be interesting.

  Cassidy stepped inside, and the smell of curry and cinnamon and butter filled her senses. Sixties music played overhead and old-timey diner décor adorned the hole-in-the-wall establishment.

  The place was jam-packed. Cassidy would bet almost every restaurant around here was full in the summer, and it had to be that way for business owners to make ends meet. She couldn’t assume the crowds meant the place was any good. The poor tourists might not know any better.

  A host
ess greeted her at the door. “Is it just you?”

  Cassidy nodded. “Just me.”

  “Then there’s a space at the bar. Feel free to sit there. Otherwise it’s an hour wait.”

  An hour wait? Cassidy couldn’t afford that long of a break.

  She found a seat at the corner and ordered water. Then she stared at the menu. She blanched at the innovative combinations she saw. Apple and ham melt, pumpkin fritters with apple raisin relish, a garbage plate with everything but the kitchen sink.

  The last one stopped her. Grilled cheese with peaches? She gagged at the thought of it.

  “It’s really good,” someone said beside her.

  Cassidy glanced up and saw an older gentleman with thick white hair and a matching white beard and mustache. His eyes, rich with wisdom, sparkled. If he was heavier, he would give off a Santa Claus vibe, but he was thin with a narrow nose and a wiry build.

  “You’re looking at the grilled cheese with peaches,” he continued, nodding at the menu. “I’m telling you, it’s delicious.”

  “You must eat here a lot.”

  He nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. “I do. Cooking for one isn’t much fun.”

  “I know.” All too well.

  “You visiting from out of town?”

  Cassidy half shrugged, half nodded, feeling like the question was way more complicated than it should be. “I’m here for the summer.”

  “Nice. You’re going to love it here in Lantern Beach.”

  She wasn’t so sure about that.

  Cassidy ordered her sandwich and an iced tea. Afterward, her mind shifted. Stay away from sticky subjects and just stick to safe topics like the weather or sports. But it was as if she couldn’t stop herself.

  “I’m not sure how safe it is here,” she started, tousling the napkin at her fingers and trying to look nervous. “I heard there was a murder.”

  His eyes lit with . . . something. Excitement? Maybe. Curiosity? It was a possibility. “It’s been the talk of the town. Haven’t had a murder here in decades. Not one we can prove, at least.”