Sabers, Sails, and Murder

by Nola Robertson

  I was well aware of his interrogating techniques and wasn’t going to offer any information until I found out what he already knew and what he was after. I blew on my coffee, holding his gaze, and waiting for him to continue. It didn’t take long for him to realize he wasn’t going to get anywhere without sharing first.

  With a sigh, he shook his head and said, “Rylee.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I know you were there that day.”

  “Fine.” I set my cup back on the table, then wrapped my fingers around the base.

  Logan and I hadn’t known each other long, but I’d gotten good at reading his body language. When he raised an inquiring brow, I knew we weren’t leaving until he got an answer.

  “Truthfully, I didn’t see much. One of the water cannons was malfunctioning, people were getting drenched, and I was too busy trying to fix the problem.” Unless Logan asked me specifics about the malfunction, which happened to be Martin, he was getting a reasonably accurate accounting of the truth.

  “The boat was right next to the dock. Are you sure you didn’t hear anything that might be helpful?” Logan asked.

  “I’m pretty sure.” I couldn’t tell him I’d been too shocked from seeing our town’s notorious pirate to pay much attention to anything else. “I don’t want to tell you how to run your investigation, but maybe you should be questioning the people who were standing on the dock and actually saw something.”

  Rather than take offense, he gave me one of those grins that always made me melt inside. “I already have.”

  More curious than wary, I asked, “If you already have the information, then why are you questioning me?”

  “Because I wanted to spend some time with you, and this way, I knew you wouldn’t say no.” He took another swallow of his drink.

  I couldn’t help being charmed by his candor, nor could I stop myself from teasing him. “Do you always use your badge to get dates?”

  “Only with unusually obstinate women who have a tendency to end up at my crime scenes, then insist on helping me investigate.”

  I laughed. “Are you saying you run into those kinds of women regularly?”

  He chuckled. “No, not until I came to Cumberpatch.”

  “It sounds to me as if the move has been good for you, then,” I said.

  The amber in his eyes darkened, and he brushed his fingertip along the back of my hand. “I’ll admit it’s been challenging, but most of it in a good way.”

  Chapter Eight

  Logan’s taller height made his legs longer, yet he slowed his pace, so our walk back to Mysterious Baubles wasn’t rushed. It was almost as if he wasn’t in a hurry for either of us to go back to work.

  “I understand the festival this weekend is quite an event.” Logan pushed back the edges of his jacket and tucked his hands in his pockets. “I take it you’ll be attending.”

  “Yeah, my friends and I will be there, pirate costumes and all.” I left out the part that we’d be searching for clues to Jake’s murder, and probably have a ghost traipsing along with us.

  Though I knew it was probably impossible, I hoped Martin’s pranks would be minimal. The next time I saw the annoying spirit, I planned to utilize my clause for changing rules and tell him what he could and couldn’t do in public when he was hanging out with my friends and me. Most of the emphasis would be on the couldn’t list.

  “A costume, huh.” He grinned. “That does sound intriguing.”

  “Are you planning to attend the festivities as well?” I stopped next to him at the end of the sidewalk and waited for the pedestrian light to signal it was safe to cross the street.

  He nodded. “I’ll more than likely be there in an official capacity.”

  Now that our conversation had moved on to a safer topic, the tension I’d experienced earlier had faded. I’d even pushed aside my concerns about Martin making an unwanted appearance so we could continue his search for Pete. At least that’s what I thought until a woman going in the opposite direction passed us on the sidewalk.

  It wasn’t the woman who caught my attention, but the large white bag she was carrying. More specifically, the bold letters for the “Cumberpatch Pirate Museum” printed on the plastic.

  When I’d been composing a list of all the possible places to search for Pete’s eye patch, I hadn’t even considered checking out the museum. Excited by the possibility of resolving one of my mysteries, I decided not to put it off until later.

  Once we’d crossed the street, we were on the same block as the shop, and not far from his truck. I placed my hand on his arm to stop him. “I hope you don’t mind, but I remembered an errand I need to run before heading back to work.”

  “Sure, no problem.” If Logan didn’t believe me, he was keeping the opinion to himself. “I guess I’ll see you this weekend.”

  It wasn’t exactly a date, but knowing I’d see Logan again in a couple of days gave me something to look forward to and made my heart race.

  After he turned and headed to his vehicle, I waited for him to pull into traffic before sending a text to Jade, letting her know what I planned to do. I’d barely received her enthusiastic response when I felt a chill along my arm, and Martin appeared beside me. He was wearing the same touristy outfit he’d had on the day before, but he’d replaced his laced sneakers with a pair of dark brown loafers.

  “I believe the detective likes ye, Lass.”

  I pulled out my phone and held it to my ear so I could continue our conversation without attracting attention. “How did you…” I glanced past Martin, worried that Logan had returned. When I didn’t see him or his vehicle anywhere, I knew there was only one way the ghost could have known we’d spent time together. “Please tell me you weren’t spying on us.”

  Martin toed a crack in the sidewalk. “I might 'ave popped in fer a moment to see wha' ye were doin', but that was all.”

  “Uh-huh.” I tamped down my irritation by reminding myself he’d been stuck in this world without anyone to talk to besides me for way too long. Since my destination was a couple of blocks away on the opposite side of the street, I headed for the nearest crosswalk.

  “Do ye nah needs to return to work?” he asked.

  “I have to go somewhere else first.” I stopped again to wait for another light.

  “Where be we off to, then?” “I thought I’d stop by the pirate museum to see if they’ve gotten in any new displays recently.” He seemed confused, so I added, “To see if they have any eye patches.”

  “That be a brilliant idea.” He clasped his hands together, excitement flickering in his eyes.

  By the time we reached the museum, I was getting tired of holding the phone to my head. “Before we go inside, I want you to promise me you will behave yourself. No touching anything, and especially no tricks.” The objects inside the museum were priceless, and I didn’t need him pulling things out of display cases like he did with his saber.

  “I assure ye I shall be on me best behavior.” He waved his hand toward the door waiting for me to enter. Once inside, he stopped to admire the life-sized portrait of himself hanging in the lobby.

  “Quite a handsome chap, do ye not reckon?” Martin placed a hand on his hip and raised his head, mimicking the stance in the picture.

  I clapped a hand over my mouth to stifle a giggle. As far as renderings went, it wasn’t bad. Though the artist had failed to capture the devilish gleam in Martin’s eyes.

  I’d only taken a few steps when someone said my name. I turned toward the gift shop designed to look like the inside of a pirate ship. Ben Hoopler, one of Greg’s employees, was standing behind the counter, his smile forming dimples on his rounded cheeks. An ample amount of hair product had been worked into his dark hair forming short spikes on the top of his head. Ben smoothed the front of his buttoned vest. “Are you here to take a tour? The next one doesn’t start for another half hour.”

  “Actually, I was hoping to talk to Greg. Is he around?” I asked.

  “Sure,
he’s in the back. Let me go get him for you.” He walked around the counter and slipped underneath the velvety red rope strung between two posts blocking off the lobby from the main part of the building, and the large room housing all the museum artifacts.

  It had been a few months since my last visit to the museum when I’d delivered brochures for the Founders Day festivities. At the time, my friends and I had assumed someone on the committee was responsible for Jessica’s death. Greg Abernathy, the museum’s owner, was on the list, and I’d used the opportunity to question him extensively. A conversation that left him slightly annoyed with me.

  “Hey, Rylee.” If Greg was still angry, it wasn’t showing. His smile was friendly, and the tone of his voice sounded genuine. He waited for Ben to return to the gift shop, then urged me to follow him to the other side of the lobby. “What can I do for you?”

  “I recently had a conversation with someone who knew quite a bit about our town’s history. He mentioned that one of the members of Martin Cumberpatch’s crew wore a jeweled eye patch.”

  Even though Martin had promised to behave himself, I wasn’t going to let him out of my sight. After glancing around, I noticed that Martin had moved away from the entrance and was walking around the glass display cases, his arms behind his back.

  Satisfied that he was keeping his word, I continued. “And since you’re quite knowledgeable about all the pirates who sailed along our coast, I was wondering if you’d ever heard about it or happened to have it on display.”

  Greg scratched the top of his head. “Honestly, I’ve never come across any eye patches from that era or heard any stories about one containing jewels.”

  He might not be an expert, but Greg was knowledgeable when it came to our town’s pirate lore. Even so, I’d done some of my own online research the night before. Unfortunately, the only information I could find mentioned Martin, his crew, and his ship the Renegade’s Revenge.

  There wasn’t a single reference to Pete, and I was beginning to wonder if he’d really existed or if Martin had made up the story about his best mate as an elaborate joke to play on my friends and me.

  I changed my mind after seeing the disappointed look on Martin’s face seconds before he disappeared. I felt bad for the ghost and would have called him back to give him some reassuring words if I could have.

  “How’s Max doing?” Greg asked, interrupting my concerned thoughts. “I can’t imagine having a murder occur near his boat would be good for business.”

  “You’d think that would be the case, but it’s not. It seems quite a few of the tourists arriving early for the festival have a thing for dead bodies. His tours are fully booked for the next few days.”

  “Have you heard whether or not the police have any idea who did it yet?” he asked.

  Greg dealt with a lot of people throughout the day, not all of them tourists. If I could keep him talking without annoying him, maybe I’d pick up another clue that might help my uncle. “Nothing yet, how about you?”

  “I do know that Jake wasn’t very well-liked. I imagine the police have a large number of suspects.” He rubbed his chin. “I’ll bet it gets even longer when they start investigating the people he hurt with some of his shady dealings.”

  “Really? What kind of shady dealings?” I’d have thought after hearing about all the things Jake did to hurt my uncle’s business, I wouldn’t be shocked, but I was.

  Greg frowned. “The kind where he’d con someone into joining a business venture with him, then take their money.”

  I gasped. “That’s terrible.” It was a far better clue then the argument between Jake and Lucas. Curious to learn more, I leaned a little closer. “How did you hear about it?”

  I was afraid I’d pushed too hard when Greg didn’t answer right away. “When I first moved here, Jake approached me about becoming a silent partner for the museum, but I turned him down.”

  I got the impression there was more to the story. “Do you mind telling me why?”

  Greg shook his head. “Not at all. When Jake told me about his proposal, I asked him if he could provide me with a list of references. He blew me off, telling me that his tour business was doing great, and that should be incentive enough to work with him.”

  “Is that when you told him no?” It’s the response I would’ve given Jake if I’d been in the same situation.

  “It was, but I still had a friend of mine who lives in Boston check out Jake and his company, anyway.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing.” Greg shrugged. “He couldn’t find any information about Jake before he moved to Cumberpatch.”

  “That is kind of strange.” Did that mean Jake had changed his name, or that he was using an alias? Surely Logan had done a more thorough background check on Jake. I wished I’d known the information before he’d taken me out for coffee. I would’ve tried to find out what he knew, and see if it made my uncle appear guiltier than he already did.

  I remembered Shawna’s comment about the spouse usually being the killer. Learning about Jake’s unethical side made me suspicious of Arlene. How much did she know about her husband’s other business dealings? Was it possible she found out something about his past, something she didn’t want anyone else to know?

  Or were Braden and Arlene also involved in the schemes Greg had mentioned? Was it possible that she had something going on with Braden, and the two of them decided they no longer needed Jake as a partner?

  If that was the case, then Jake’s murder had been the perfect opportunity to get him out of the picture. More importantly, had blaming Max been part of the plan, a way to get rid of the competition and mislead the police at the same time?

  “Isn’t it, though?” Greg said, then turned as the sound of muffled voices and footsteps signaled the end of the latest tour. “I’m afraid I need to go.”

  “No problem,” I moved toward the door. “I appreciate you taking the time to answer my questions.”

  “My pleasure,” he said, hurrying into the gift shop to help Ben.

  Once outside, I headed back to the shop, wishing my trip to the museum had given me more than a lot of speculations and the beginnings of a headache.

  Chapter Nine

  With closing time a half-hour away and the last customer already gone, I told Jade she could leave early, and I’d finish restocking shelves. I pulled supplies out of a box I’d gotten from the storeroom and thought about the conversation I’d had with Greg. The more I pondered my current list of possible suspects, the more questions I had without answers.

  Questions like how many people had Jake successfully swindled after he moved to Cumberpatch? Or, was it possible that someone from his past had tracked him down and had been pretending to be a tourist to finish him off? And why use my uncle’s saber and leave the body near his boat? Why not take care of Jake on his own boat, or somewhere else altogether?

  I was still going with the theory that whoever killed Jake had purposely wanted my uncle to be blamed for it. What continued to baffle me was who it could be and why. Max was well-liked by pretty much everyone, except for maybe Amanda. Their breakup had happened a long time ago. Would she really wait this long to exact some revenge? And, if so, what was her link to Jake?

  I was hoping to share my thoughts with Shawna and Jade when I met with them after work. I also wanted to catch them up on my unsuccessful search for Pete, and see if they had any helpful ideas.

  Gathering information about Jake’s case would be a lot easier if I could discuss it with Logan. He had the means to access that kind of information, but collaborating with me was definitely not on his agenda.

  Since I wasn’t in law enforcement and my amateur sleuthing skills came from reading fiction and watching television, finding answers was going to be difficult.

  I’d even experienced a momentary lapse in good sense and considered having Grams and Mattie take Roy out for ice cream again to see if they could bribe him for any details about the case. The amount of trouble she’d ca
use if her efforts backfired and Logan found out my family and I were interfering in his case wasn’t worth getting her involved.

  Reviewing my never-ending list of questions was put on hold when I heard footsteps and the sound of my grandmother’s voice. “Rylee, there’s something I need to tell you.”

  “Sure, what is it?” I placed the two bottles of herbal remedies I was holding on the shelf in front of me.

  “I want you to know it wasn’t my fault, and I need you to promise me that you’re not going to get upset when I tell you.” Her pursed lips made the wrinkles around her eyes deepen.

  Whatever it was had to be bad if she was making me promise not to get mad first. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing.” She glanced down and pretended to pick a piece of lint off her long, plaid skirt.

  “Grams,” I insisted.

  She raised her head to hold my gaze again. “I’m sure you’ve already heard Josh is in town for the festival, and he’s staying with Mattie.”

  I’d gotten the information from Max the day he’d stop by the shop, and I’d volunteered my help. I wasn’t sure what Josh’s visit had to do with what my grandmother wanted to tell me. “And.” I wiggled my fingers, urging her to continue.

  “You know I worry that you haven’t been in a serious relationship since…”

  “Yeah.” Besides my aversion to discussing anything pertaining to the paranormal, the topic of my love life, or lack thereof, was something I avoided.

  My family and friends had gotten good at not mentioning Hudson Bradley, my cheating jerk of an ex-boyfriend. The two years I’d wasted on a relationship I thought was going to last forever was not something I ever wanted to discuss again.

  Luckily, he’d moved to Portland, sparing me constant reminders and keeping my father from searching for someone to put a hex on him. At the time my loving parent had made the offer, I didn’t think it was possible. Now that I could see ghosts and knew Martin had been cursed, my views on the subject had changed considerably.