Sabers, Sails, and Murder

by Nola Robertson

  Saber, Sails, and Murder

  A Cumberpatch Cove Mystery: Book 2

  Nola Robertson

  Copyright © 2020 Nola Robertson

  Website: http://nolarobertson.com

  Published by Nola Robertson, 2020

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7341022-5-3

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  A Note from the Author

  Also by Nola Robertson

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  “Maxwell, what’s up with this sword?” Grams, the nickname I used for Abigail Spencer, my grandmother, bellowed from the bottom of the stairs leading to the storage area below deck on the Buccaneer’s Delight. The boat belonged to her son and my uncle Max who ran one of several local pirate tours from the docks near the Cumberpatch Cove harbor.

  He liked to make the trips fun for the children and had recently added birthday parties to the list of activities he offered. Since I managed and ordered all the items sold at Mysterious Baubles, my family's shop, I’d also been tasked with providing all his supplies.

  Grams and I had arrived a half-hour earlier to restock the face painting kits and miniature chests he now included in all his treasure hunts. Instead of my purse and the empty box I’d expected her to be carrying when she reappeared at the top of the stairs, she had a sword and swished it through the air as if she were a practiced swordsman or woman in her case. When she came close to catching the end of her ankle-length plaid skirt, I worried she might hurt herself.

  “Where did you find the sword?” I took a step back to avoid another swipe. “Maybe you should think about putting it back wherever you found it.”

  “It’s actually a pirate saber.” My uncle set the plastic garbage bag he’d used to gather discarded advertising brochures, empty drink containers, and snack wrappers left over from his previous tour near his feet, then pulled the drawstring.

  Max Spencer was tall, burly, and had the same hazel eyes as Grams. His uniform, a pirate costume complete with a feather plume sticking out of his hat, was as good as or even better than anything found in a major motion picture. He’d also grown a short beard to make his outfit seem more authentic. On the rare occasion when he wanted to annoy my grandmother, he’d threatened to grow it out and have me braid it for him.

  “I bought it over at the Booty Bazaar on Sea Biscuit Avenue.” Max scratched his chin. “Supposedly, it belonged to Martin Cumberpatch. The salesclerk said they bought it from old Clyde Anderson. He wanted to get rid of it because he swears it’s haunted.”

  Clyde was the caretaker at the By the Bay Cemetery, one of our local tourist attractions. You didn’t grow up in this area of Maine without hearing stories about how the not so famous pirate our town was named after haunted the graveyard, supposedly searching for buried treasure.

  My entire family and most of the town believed in any paranormal, supernatural, or magical entity ever written about. The ghost of our community’s legendary pirate was at the top of everyone’s list.

  I’d never seen him and believed the rumors had been generated to encourage more business. Hearing the saber was haunted should have been reason enough not to buy it, and would have been for me. Unfortunately, the other members of my family believed otherwise. Any item given an otherworldly label automatically guaranteed a sale.

  “Really?” Grams stopped the saber mid-swish so she could examine the blade more closely. “Have you showed it to Jonathan yet?”

  Jonathan was my father, Max’s younger brother, and out of all my relatives, his quest for anything supernatural bordered on obsessive. I didn’t think there was a haunted house anywhere in the entire state he hadn’t toured at least once, including the five he’d dragged me along to visit. If the saber belonged to Martin, and there was a possibility he’d get to see the pirate’s ghost, then he’d definitely be interested.

  “Of course, I did.” Max rolled his eyes as if the answer should have been obvious. “I even had it authenticated. It was made in the seventeen hundreds, but they weren’t able to prove whether or not it belonged to Martin.”

  “Well, that’s too bad,” Grams said.

  “Yeah, but even if it wasn’t Martin’s, it adds quite a bit of realism to the tour, don’t you think?” Max grinned.

  Realism or not, I’d feel a lot better if he kept it out of my grandmother’s hands. “Shouldn’t you keep it locked up or something? You know, to make sure no children get a hold of it.” I cringed when Grams took another swipe and mentally amended my thought on the subject to include older adults who should know better.

  “I always keep it inside there.” He tipped his chin at the beautiful wall-mounted case with a dark wooden frame and glass door behind us. Inside there were several other pirate artifacts and an empty spot with two hooks where I assumed the saber should have been.

  I glanced back at my uncle. “Don’t you keep the case locked?” Max had always been safety-minded, so I couldn’t believe he hadn’t taken precautions to protect his customers.

  “I do, but somehow the darned thing finds a way out without any help. Now and then, I’ll find it in the strangest places.” He stared reflectively at the doorway behind Grams. “One time, I even found it in the spare bunk in the room below that I occasionally use as an office.”

  I glanced between the two of them. “Does anyone besides me think that’s a little creepy?” I knew better than to ask, but couldn’t help myself.

  Grams smiled and stopped swinging. “If this did belong to Martin, then maybe it’s his ghost that keeps removing it from the case.”

  Because of my own recent ghostly experience where my friends and I ended up helping Jessica, my tour guide friend who’d been murdered, find her hereafter, I knew ghosts were real. My beliefs about the spirit world might have been swayed, but it didn’t mean I believed a three-hundred-year-old ghost was haunting my uncle’s boat any more than I thought werewolves and vampires existed. At least I wouldn’t think they were real until I’d seen one with my own eyes.

  Since I’d seen Jessica’s ghost walk through a fence, I had a hard time accepting the fact that a spirit was capable of actually moving solid objects rather than passing through them. I narrowed my gaze at the round metal lock securing the glass door on the left side of the frame. “Without the key?”

  Grams shook her head and tsked, dismissing my suggestion that the laws of physics applied to the situation. I braced, sure that she was about to give my uncle and me another one of her psychic revelations.

  The last one occurred a few months ago and involved a mouse who would sneak into my office at the shop and steal tidbits of my breakfast muffins. Supposedly, the rodent
was the reincarnation of my great-great-uncle Howard and made a habit of showing up whenever a member of my family needed help. If I remembered correctly, the time before that, he’d shown up in the form of a hamster.

  Even though the furry creature had inadvertently helped me find the clue that led my friends and me to Jessica’s killer, I still had my doubts we were related.

  “The key never leaves the ring.” Max reached into his pants pocket and dangled the proof in front of me.

  Since Grams had added jabs and fancy footwork to her swordplay, and I preferred not to be headline news should one of us end up skewed, I decided to use the one thing that might persuade her to hand over the weapon.

  “If the saber is haunted, do you think the owner will be upset that you’re using it?”

  Grams widened her eyes and stopped swiping, then glanced around as if she expected Martin to appear magically. “Oooh, you could be right. Maybe we should put it back. Besides, I’m supposed to meet with Nadine when we finish so I can help her finalize plans for this year’s fortune teller booth.”

  The residents of Cumberpatch were big on celebrating everything. Next to the Founders Day celebration, the pirate festival scheduled for the upcoming weekend was the town’s biggest annual event. The booth Grams was helping Nadine with was one of many attractions that would be available for the influx of tourists who’d be arriving for the festivities.

  “I think that sounds like a good idea.” Max stepped closer to the display case and slipped the key in the lock.

  Glad I finally had my uncle’s support, I held my hand out to Grams, then wiggled my fingers hoping she’d turn over the blade so I wouldn’t have to wrestle it away from her.

  Reluctantly, and after swinging at an imaginary opponent one more time, she handed me the weapon. The instant I gripped the metal hilt, I received an electrical shock. Only it wasn’t a regular jolt, or anything close to what a person would expect if they’d accidentally touched a household outlet. No, this was a full-blown zap with enough power to send a painful shock that ran from my wrist to my elbow.

  At the same time, I released an embarrassingly girly squeal and tossed the saber. Luckily, when the blade sailed through the air and made its dissent, it missed Grams and Max before landing on the deck with a clank.

  Max was the first to reach me and placed a hand on my shoulder. “Rylee, are you okay?”

  I struggled with nausea, and my fingers tingled. What I wanted to do was shake my head and scream that I wasn’t all right, but I didn’t want him to worry, or hover. Max had never married and didn’t have any children, so being his only niece had always earned me his fatherly affections. “I’m fine. It was only a shock.”

  There wasn’t anything normal about the electrical jolt. The residual ache in my hand and arm felt the same way they did after I’d been zapped by the spirit seeker. Only on that particular occasion, I’d made the mistake of opening what I’d thought was a uniquely designed box of chocolates, which turned out to be a magical object my father had sent me as a birthday present.

  I didn’t like thinking about the blue tendrils that had wrapped me in a cocoon and given me the ability to see and interact with a spirit. An ability I’d hoped would disappear like Jessica had when she’d gone to the otherworldly realm.

  I wasn’t willing to repeat what had just happened and flexed my fingers, then glared at the offensive piece of metal as if it were a venomous snake.

  “Are you sure?” The disbelief I heard in Gram's concerned voice was understandable. She was the one who found me passed out on the floor of my office after the last time I’d been zapped.

  I nodded, then cringed when Max walked over and reached for the saber. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”

  He gripped the handle the same way I had, even running his fingertip along the smooth, flat surface of the blade. “Seems to be okay now.” He offered me a weak smile, then headed for the case. “I’ll lock this up, then walk you back to your car.”

  Usually, I wouldn’t let him get away with being so overprotective, but at the moment, I didn’t mind.

  Max didn’t know about my previous incident, so it was no surprise when Grams cast me a look that said we’d be discussing what had happened later. “If you’re sure you’ll be okay, then I guess I’m off to see Nadine.” With a wave of her hand, she headed across the deck. She’d made it as far as the ramp leading to the walkway below, had her hand on the white handrail before jerking to a stop. “Uh, Max.”

  “Yeah.” He finished twisting the lock into place before turning to face her.

  “You might want to get over here. It looks like Jake is standing outside your shop and handing out tickets or something to your customers.”

  Max rushed to the railing and peered over the side, then groaned. “That man is unbelievable.” He stomped across the deck, pausing long enough for Grams to move out of the way. After a conspiratorial glance in my direction, she hastened to follow him the remainder of the way down the ramp.

  The rivalry between Jake Durant, owner of the Sea Witch Pirate Tours, and Max had been going on for several years. Jake was my uncle’s biggest competitor, and his unethical business practices had been a topic of discussion at more than one Spencer family get together.

  Max rarely got angry unless provoked, which lately Jake seemed to do quite regularly. With Grams getting involved, I had a feeling things were about to escalate and decided my intervention might be needed.

  I hurried down the stairs to the small room Max used as an office and grabbed my purse and the empty box. The minute I returned to the top of the stairs, a brisk chill swept across my body, cold enough to give me goosebumps. Even though we’d said our good-byes four months ago, anytime my skin prickled from a freezing sensation, I expected Jessica’s ghost to appear wearing one of her odd hats that seemed to change colors with her moods.

  I had no idea what had caused the drastic change in temperature. It was a sunny day, not the slightest hint of a breeze. A few random clouds sprinkled the blue skies, the surrounding water was calm, the surface barely showing any ripples.

  Shaking off my trepidation, I secured the door behind me and started across the deck. A movement to my left caught my attention, and I glanced at the six water cannons painted in brilliant blue and mounted along the railing. Max had installed them to keep the kids busy during the tour, but I’d seen quite a few adults having just as much fun as they tried to see how far they could shoot a stream of water.

  Luckily, the swivel underneath was designed to keep the cannons from moving very far in either direction; otherwise, quite a few of Max’s passengers would have gotten soaked by the mischievous antics of their children.

  Standing next to the cannon at the far end was a man dressed in a pirate outfit. He was wearing a hat similar to my uncle’s; only his didn’t have a colorful feather sticking out of the brim. I thought I knew all of Max’s employees, and I was sure he wasn’t one of them.

  Though it did seem a little early to be wearing a costume, it wasn’t uncommon for tourists to dress up like Martin for the festival. Maybe this was one of those guys who enjoyed role-playing.

  It was late afternoon, and as far as I knew, the last tour of the day had ended about a half-hour or so before Grams, and I had arrived. There was no reason for him to be on the boat, and there most certainly wasn’t a reason for him to have his hand on the trigger. He aimed and fired, his laughter filling the air after the people standing on the dock below had gotten drenched and started squealing.

  “Hey, what do you think you’re doing? Those aren’t toys.” I pointed at the cannon too late to stop another pulse of water to shoot through the air.

  I tightened my grip on my purse strap and walked toward him. “You need to stop right now before you hurt somebody.” The causing pain part of my statement wasn’t exactly the truth. When I was younger, my best friends Jade, Shawna, and I used to play with the cannons. I knew the water coming out of the barrel had the same pressure as a water hose. I
t wouldn’t hurt unless you received a blast in the face.

  He jerked his head in my direction, surprise glinting in his dark eyes. He glanced around as if he thought I was talking to someone else. When he finally realized I was glaring at him, he removed his hand from the trigger. “Ye can see me?”

  “Of course, I can see you. It’s not like you’re trying to hide or anything.” I was pretty sure the victims of his prank could see him too. “I know the owner of this boat. He’s not going to be happy with you either.”

  I set the box down, then leaned over the railing so I could assess the damage myself. Grams was nowhere in sight, but Max and Jake, along with a group of five tourists were standing in and around a large puddle of water. Several people, those closest to my uncle and Jake, had received the brunt of the blast. Their clothes were soaked, their colorful T-shirts plastered to their skin. All of them glared at me instead of the culprit responsible for drenching them, even the people who had only gotten a light spraying.

  Max took off his hat, his glare shooting from his no longer pluming feather to me. “Rylee, what the heck?”

  “I didn’t do it, he did.” I hitched my thumb at the pirate guy.

  “He who? There’s nobody there,” Jake growled as he wiped the water off his bald head, then shook off the excess water.

  “Hey, don’t yell at my niece.” Max coming to my defense wouldn’t last long and wasn’t going to keep me from getting a lecture later. While he and Jake argued, the crowd had sense enough to move outside the spray zone and continued mumbling their disapproval of what they thought I’d done.

  I was no longer in any hurry to leave the boat and decided to give the pirate guy a piece of my mind for starting this whole fiasco. He was still standing near the railing, making Jake’s comment about not being able to see him even more confusing.

  As if his smirk hadn’t been irritating enough, he smugly crossed his arms and quirked a brow as if chastising him further wasn’t going to do any good. When he faded into nothingness, then reappeared five feet away from me, my annoyance turned to shock. My comprehension of the situation, the reason he’d asked me if I could see him, and why no one else could, finally made sense.