Clues in the Sand

by Terry Ambrose

  “I always suspected that trip would come back to haunt me.” She sniffled and ran her finger over the screen before handing the phone back.

  “You should be aware Reese Potok gave me the photo.”

  Flynn shrugged. “Of course she did. Like I told you before, she’s determined to get rid of me.”

  “I understand that, but I’m not sure you’ve helped yourself. You told me you’d only met Dani once on a dig in Belize.”

  “I can explain.” Flynn cleared her throat and blew out a slow breath. “It’s complicated.”

  “Isn’t it always?”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “So why did Reese have a photo of you and Dani at a luau?”

  “Because Dani and I have been friends since we met in Belize.”

  “Why did you lie about knowing her?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? She’s a thief. I’d lose everything if my employers found out I was friends with someone who stole antiquities for a living.”

  Rick had a brief flashback to his conversation with Alex. More empty accusations? He suspected not. “Dani Collins was a thief?”

  “Yes.”

  “What did she steal?”

  Flynn shrugged and shook her head. “Nothing was ever proven. She was very good and had the right connections to make things disappear. The biggest was a very large stone Buddha from India. I suspect she was also involved in thefts in China and the Middle East.”

  “But your suspicions were never proven?”

  “No. Dani was a professional. Even I didn’t make the connections until recently.” She stroked the bedspread absently. “You never suspect those who are close to you. I guess it’s a human frailty.”

  “Were you more than friends?”

  “You mean, was I her accomplice?”

  “That wasn’t what I had in mind. I’m wondering about the nature of your relationship.”

  “I liked Dani. We were opposites in many ways, but we didn’t clash. It was more like we filled in the gaps for the other person. We were sisters in so many ways. And our paths kept crossing. Each time we got together she told me she’d changed. I always wanted to believe her, but time and again she disappointed me.”

  “How so?”

  “Dani’s one of those people who thinks—thought—the world was hers for the taking. The truth is, I’m the one who got her fired in Belize. I told the project manager about her, and he let her go immediately. We didn’t meet again for a few years.”

  “Go on.”

  “It was Christmas of two-thousand. I was taking a break in Cancun. The resort was a lonely place. I was at the bar one night getting drunk and eating peanuts. She walked in, sat down next to me, and said she was allergic to them. No ‘hi,’ or, ‘how’ve you been?’ Next thing I know we’re talking like a couple of sisters who haven’t seen each other in ages.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Everything. Jobs, boyfriends, food.”

  “So you got along well despite having gotten her fired.”

  Flynn laughed. “She never mentioned it. I tried to bring it up once, and she blew the whole thing off. She said it was water under the bridge. Claimed I’d done her a favor because it helped her turn her life around. I was naive—no, desperate. It was a time when I needed a friend and Dani was there.”

  She shifted her position on the bed and gazed at her image in the mirror. Her blue eyes were misted over and glistened in the light. She looked so forlorn—and so unlike a killer. “Go on,” Rick said.

  “We were both staying through New Year’s Day. We hung out and the more time I spent with her…” She stopped and sniffled, then tried to smile, but the effort failed and, instead, her lower lip quivered. “It was a lot of fun and we stayed in touch afterwards. It wasn’t until I met her for dinner at the Crooked Mast and she started peppering me with questions about the San Manuel that I realized she hadn’t changed at all. It was like this big ‘aha’ moment, you know? All those things I’d explained away as coincidence—anyway, that’s what the huge fight was about. I told her I never wanted to see her again.”

  “You said she disappointed you time and again. What did you mean?”

  Flynn shut her eyes and her breathing slowed. “It was little things. We tried to get together a few times a year, but sometimes she canceled on me at the last moment. We were actually supposed to spend this week in San Francisco. But she called a couple of days before and said she couldn’t make it. I figured I might as well come here instead of wasting my time rattling around in a big city all by myself.”

  “You’ve had your reservation for more than a month.”

  She averted her gaze and mumbled, “Sorry. I was planning to cancel at the last minute. When we made plans for San Francisco, I considered calling right then and there, but Dani had already stood me up several times. I didn’t want to lose my reservation here in case she flaked out on me, which she did. When she called to tell me she couldn’t make it, she said she’d be in Atlanta for some kind of conference.”

  “How did you discover she was a thief?”

  “Too many coincidences. We’d get together, I’d tell her what I was working on or what a colleague was working on. Dani always had this interest in archaeology. What were the new discoveries? The big money finds? I was so stupid. I never saw she was using me as an intelligence source.”

  “It must have been infuriating.”

  “It was. She made me feel like fool. Dani was a grave robber. Pure and simple. She made her living by stealing big discoveries before they could be studied. The law may feel differently, but as far as I’m concerned, there’s little difference between a grave robber like Dani and a so-called professional like Reese. They both do what they do for money. Profit is all that matters to them.”

  “These grave robbers, do you think they might do it for the thrill?”

  “The thrill?” Flynn balled her fist and glared at Rick. “I won’t glorify theft, Rick. These people are thieves and have to be stopped. So, short of killing them, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

  For Alex’s sake, Rick wanted to believe her.

  CHAPTER 28

  RICK

  After speaking with Flynn, Rick returned to the kitchen. The moment he opened the butler door, the aroma of simmering tomatoes and meat frying enveloped him. The door slipped closed behind him and he stared in disbelief at the countertop chaos. It looked like they were using every pot, pan, and mixing bowl in the house.

  He stammered, “What in the world?”

  Alex was at the stove wearing her red oven mitts and holding a pair of stainless steel tongs in her hand. She was in a deep state of concentration with her tongue stuck out to one side as she turned almost-round globs of meat sizzling in her skillet. She glanced up at him and smiled. “Hi Daddy. We’re making spaghetti and meatballs for dinner.”

  He glanced around the countertops again. “From scratch?”

  Marquetta stopped stirring a soup pot and eyeballed him. “Seriously? You think I’d serve you anything else?”

  “Uh, no. I just didn’t expect anything so elaborate.”

  “This is fun,” Alex chirped. “I’ve never made meatballs before.” She stuck out her tongue again as she concentrated on repositioning another sizzling blob.

  “Those are perfect, Sweetie.” Marquetta bumped Alex’s shoulder with her hip.

  Rick smiled at the image. They were so good together. Marquetta was teaching Alex how to grow up to be a smart, resourceful young woman. He asked, “Do you two need any help?”

  “It’s all under control,” Marquetta said. “Which is good, because your phone’s ringing.”

  “Right.” Rick looked at the screen. It was a local call with a number he didn’t recognize. A local number meant it wasn’t a guest, which meant he really didn’t need to answer. He answered anyway.

  The caller turned out to be Jordan Harris and he explained how Beth had recapped the day for him, which included Rick’s visit. “It sounded like yo
u had a couple of reasons for coming to my office. Beth said you wanted an appointment for early next week, but I’m going to be out for a few more days. That’s why I thought I’d get in touch. Do you have any questions I can answer over the phone?”

  “I’m so surprised, Jordan. The attorneys I’ve dealt with have never been so prompt in returning calls.”

  “This is a small town. We’re all friends and neighbors. What is it you’re trying to accomplish? Beth said you wanted me to handle an out-of-state divorce. Is that correct?”

  The two cooks were casting questioning glances at Rick. They, too, probably wondered why Jordan was reaching out this late in the day. He had no desire to worry Alex with the details of a divorce, so he inclined his head toward the back patio and went outside.

  With the patio French doors closed, he said, “I want to make sure I keep custody of Alex. I don’t think New York is a healthy place for her to be spending time with a mother who’s out on the town all the time.” He strode past the row of Adirondack chairs lined up to face the view as he explained how Giselle’s love of acting had taken over her life. How she’d been gone so much of the time.

  “A mother who is in abstentia can be a powerful argument, but you’ll need proof. We cannot make a case without witnesses and documentation. Do you have those?”

  The breeze rustled in the tall fir trees overhead as Rick considered Jordan’s question. He watched the surf crash against the rocky shore in the distance and felt his brows furrow with worry. “We haven’t been in New York for more than a year. I can tell you what happened while we were there.”

  “That would have been exactly what we needed a year ago. What we need now is to prove nothing has changed. Another option is a signed agreement in which she relinquishes her parental rights. I doubt if you have one.”

  “I don’t. What should I do?”

  Jordan paused, and when he continued, his voice was cautious. “It wouldn’t be hard for the biological mother to claim at least some custodial rights. We’ll want to proceed in a very deliberate manner to shut down those avenues. To get you the best possible settlement, we’ll need to strategize. You’ve already got an appointment for next week. Let’s talk specifics then. Beth also said you were asking about Miss Potok’s visit.”

  “Yes. I’m trying to find out about Thorne Waldorf and his relationship with Exploration International.”

  “Ah, Thorne. He is a slippery one. All I know is what I’ve seen from the outside. I don’t think you want any red flags going up, so the best solution is not a legal one.”

  “Excuse me?”

  Jordan laughed and hastily added, “I’m not recommending anything illegal. What I’m saying is the best solution is to organize resistance in the town. Your daughter did an excellent job in creating the fundraiser for the Sachettis. Her event got everyone out and united. We need to maintain such a unified spirit to keep Exploration International out of Seaside Cove.”

  “Got it. Do you have any suggestions on how to begin?”

  “The first problem is the mayor. Francine is looking at dollar signs for the town. She’s not thinking about what the changes will do to the people. We need to work on her first. And somehow, while we’re getting her to think clearly, we can’t let Thorne or Reese Potok hear about it. Otherwise, they’ll initiate their own preemptive strike.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any recommendations on how to get Francine on our side, do you?”

  “Wish I did. Whatever you do, remember the mayor will want to do what she thinks is best for the town. You know Francine. Saying she’s strong-willed is an understatement. Getting her to realize she’s making a mistake will be tricky. Unless the whole town rises up, I’m not quite sure who would sway her decision. Whoever talks to Francine, they have to make an impassioned plea that plays on her emotions. It also has to be someone she doesn’t perceive as being a threat to her political career. Got any suggestions?”

  Rick paused, stared off at the shore for a moment, then turned his attention back to the house. Inside the kitchen, Alex and Marquetta were visible through the windows. They operated like a well-oiled machine. The truth was, Marquetta made working in the kitchen look easy no matter who was helping her.

  He said, “Actually, I do have an idea. I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

  CHAPTER 29

  RICK

  Rick disconnected the call with Jordan Harris and took a final look seaward. The sun still hung high in the sky, glinting off the midnight blue ocean like sparkling diamonds. Whitecaps popped into view then disappeared. He couldn’t imagine leaving this view, or doing something that would force Alex to leave. Everything—from their future happiness to whether they even stayed in Seaside Cove—depended on one thing. Full custody. He was out of options. Success meant no more worries. No more drama for Alex. But failure? What an awful thought.

  He turned at the sound of footsteps approaching. It was Mr. de la Guerra, and he appeared to be in a hurry.

  “Señor Atwood, may I interrupt?”

  “Of course.”

  “I have come across some information today concerning your Miss Potok.”

  How fortuitous, Rick thought. “What might that be?”

  “I believe she is working for Exploration International. My information is also that they have offered her a bounty of one million dollars to find and secure the salvage rights for the San Manuel.”

  Rick blinked at his guest. It was no news about Exploration International, but a bounty? “Are you sure?” His reporter instincts kicked in. This was rapidly falling into a reporter’s nightmare—a story with many informants telling too many lies. “How did you come across this information, sir?”

  The man stroked his black goatee as his dark eyes grew more intense. “The information is not—how you say—one hundred percent, but I believe it to be accurate.”

  “Thank you for telling me, sir. By the way, I understand you also work for an offshore salvage company. Very much like Miss Potok.”

  The other man froze, stared at Rick, then smiled. “Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering. I thought maybe you worked for one of Miss Potok’s competitors.” Rick let the statement sink in, then added, “Or maybe even Exploration International.”

  De la Guerra blinked a couple of times, then seemed to recover his composure. “Most interesting,” he said with a shrug while fingering his thin mustache. “I am most unfamiliar with this company. Now, I must be off to dinner. I have become quite fond of your Crooked Mast restaurant. The food is most delicious. It reminds me of a similar restaurant in Barcelona. Good evening.”

  As his guest walked away, Rick eyed him with renewed suspicion. If Alex was correct, de la Guerra had just told a big fat lie. He pulled out his phone, opened the Facebook app, and did a quick search for the man’s profile. There it was. He listed his employment simply as “offshore salvage.” Rick took a quick screenshot of the page and saved the image to his photos. He wasn’t taking any chances. If the man was lying, he’d proven himself slipperier than Rick had ever thought. And if he wasn’t lying, then no harm had been done.

  Whether de la Guerra was lying about his employment or not, his information was significant. Potentially huge. But only if the source could be identified, and only if the discovery was true. The problem was, the information had come with no explanation or source. Something was off with the man and Rick couldn’t pinpoint what—yet. All he knew was, the world felt suddenly out of kilter.

  When he returned to the kitchen, Alex was no longer frying meatballs, but had moved on to setting the table. She’d set three places, two with wine glasses. The two adult place settings were conspicuously close together. Was his daughter playing matchmaker again? Probably. Feeling very much like a teenager on a first date, he said a silent thank you for the seating arrangement.

  Marquetta had also been busy. She’d cleaned off the cutting boards, stored them, and was washing up the last of the pans, bowls, and utensils they’d used.
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  “How long before dinner?” Rick asked as he pulled a towel off the rack and began to dry Marquetta’s large, stainless steel skillet.

  “About fifteen minutes,” she said before glancing at Alex. “Sweetie, why don’t you go get cleaned up? The water for the noodles should be boiling by the time you get back.”

  “Okay.” Alex peeked at Marquetta, then Rick. She grinned at them over her shoulder as she darted out of the kitchen.

  Marquetta rinsed and dried her hands, then stirred the sauce. With her eyes closed, she sniffed. “Delightful.” She opened her eyes and gave the pot another stir. “Would you like a taste?”

  Rick’s pulse raced as she held out the spoon with a small amount of sauce on it. “Yes.”

  He watched steam drift upwards from the bright, red sauce on the spoon. His eyes flicked toward hers, then back to the spoon. He blew lightly on the sauce, then leaned forward and tasted. A symphony of flavor exploded in his mouth.

  “Wow, that’s amazing,” he said as he took a step backward.

  “Alex will be delighted.”

  “And what about you?”

  She glanced down, then regarded him with a subtle smile. “I’m delighted, too.” Straightening her shoulders, she turned back to the sauce and spoke over her shoulder. “The meatballs are the hard part. Otherwise, it’s easy.”

  “The kitchen smells like heaven. I hope this isn’t driving the guests crazy. They’ll all be down here banging on the door.”

  “There’s a lot, but not enough to feed all of them. Speaking of guests, is everything okay with Mr. de la Guerra?”

  “I’m not sure. I don’t put a lot of stock into what people list on the Facebook profiles, but Alex was right. He lists his employment as offshore salvage. If that’s true, he would be Reese’s direct competitor—or a coworker.”

  “Do you think he really is here to spy? Maybe on Reese? Those salvage companies are pretty cutthroat.”

  “Meaning?”

  “He could be here to let Reese do the work, then take a run at the San Manuel before anyone even knows they’re interested.”