Clues in the Sand

by Terry Ambrose

  “It was in our stuff today, Daddy.”

  Her eyes brimmed with tears and it looked like she would cry at any second. He turned to his guest and said, “I’m sorry, Mr. Spaulding. Alex knows better than to violate a guest’s privacy.” He averted his eyes from Spaulding and glared at Alex. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  “Relax, Rick. She’s only a child and it wasn’t intentional. Besides, it would have come out sooner or later. I told you I was relocating my business to Seaside Cove.” He held up the envelope. “This is the reason. The neighborhood has gone in the crapper and my landlord wants to participate in a major renovation of the entire block. I’ve been there for more than ten years, and he’s gone from reasonable to greedy. The city wants to turn things around, and he sees it as his chance to raise the rent. I refused to put up with it, so he sent me an eviction notice.” Spaulding pulled the paper out of the envelope and showed it to Rick.

  “I’m sorry to hear you’re being forced into a relocation, Mr. Spaulding. I’m sure you’ll have better luck here.”

  The man smiled politely. “I have to. For one thing, I’m sure my store here won’t ever get robbed. Happened to me twice back home.”

  “You were robbed?” Alex gasped. “Twice?”

  “Thank goodness I’ve never heard of a robbery in Seaside Cove,” Rick said.

  “Were you scared?” Alex gaped at Mr. Spaulding with renewed fascination.

  “To death,” Mr. Spaulding lowered his voice to a whisper. “I thought I was going to die the second time.”

  Oh great, was the guy deliberately trying to scare Alex? If that was the case, he had news for Spaulding. It was best to put this conversation to bed. “Overall, Seaside Cove is quite safe. We have very few problems.” Rick turned to Alex. “Come on, kiddo. We have work to do.”

  “Did the robber have a gun?” Alex asked, her eyes wide.

  “There were two of them and they both did. They were wearing ski masks so I couldn’t see their faces. All I remember was thinking how sinister their eyes looked.”

  “Alex,” Rick said. “We have to go.”

  “Okay.” She started to turn away, then stopped and looked at their guest. “Would you have shot them if you had a gun?”

  Spaulding shuddered and his jaw tightened. “I was too afraid. Besides, there were two of them, and I don’t own a gun.”

  “What about a taser?”

  “Alex!” Rick snapped.

  Spaulding glanced up at Rick and shrugged. “That neighborhood was getting worse and worse. I bought a taser for self-defense. Figured I wouldn’t need it here, so I left it at home. Besides, I didn’t want to take a chance on the airlines losing it. I’ll sell it once I move.”

  Rick held his guest’s gaze. The man seemed so sincere. Witnesses had seen him on the beach, but not near the body. Besides, if he was lying, it would come out. “You won’t need a taser here.” Rick reached out and laid a firm hand on Alex’s shoulder. “It’s time to go and leave our guest alone. I’m sorry for all the trouble, Mr. Spaulding.”

  “It’s no trouble at all.” He looked at Alex and added, “Be on the lookout for more of my mail. I did put in a forwarding address for here. I should have warned you.”

  When Rick and Alex entered the kitchen, Marquetta was at the countertop working on a laptop. She had two cookbooks next to her. She said, “I’m working on this week’s menu. What’s up?”

  Rick took a deep breath and looked down at Alex. He wasn’t sure how accidental her opening of the mail had been. This time, he wasn’t letting her change the subject when he asked for answers. “Alex opened a piece of mail addressed to Mr. Spaulding.”

  Marquetta’s smile fell, and she averted her gaze. If Rick didn’t know her so well, he’d swear she’d known about it. That was impossible. She would never condone something so…wrong. “Alex, tell me why you opened Mr. Spaulding’s mail.”

  “She didn’t,” Marquetta blurted.

  Rick flinched at the implication and stared, open-mouthed, at her. “What does that mean?”

  “I thought Mr. Spaulding was running from the law!” Alex blurted. “Marquetta didn’t know anything about it. I used the wallpaper steamer to open it.”

  “The envelope in his hand was slit open,” Rick said. He narrowed his gaze and looked from one to the other. “What happened here? I want the truth.”

  “I know, I’m grounded for a month.” Alex’s shoulders slumped, and she turned as if she were going to leave. “Do I have to go to my room now?”

  “Oh no. There’s more to this story.” Rick gazed at Marquetta. She’d always been so honest, and she would never condone going behind people’s backs. Had Alex corrupted her? “Tell me what happened.”

  Alex started to talk again, and Rick shushed her. “I want to hear Marquetta’s side. Without any of your interpretations, Alex.”

  “Sweetie, your dad needs to know the truth.” Marquetta sighed and looked at Rick. “Alex did use the steamer to open the envelope. I heard a noise coming from upstairs and went to investigate. When I got there, she already had it open. It was my decision to protect her and the B&B by making it look like an accident.”

  “No!” Alex swiped at the tear trickling down her cheek. “It was all my fault. Marquetta didn’t know about it.”

  “Alex, Sweetie.” Marquetta came and knelt in front of her, then took the girl into her arms and hugged her. “You don’t need to protect me. I knew what I was doing when I made the suggestion.” She kissed Alex’s wet cheek and stood. She looked at Rick and gave him a weak smile. “Am I grounded, too?”

  CHAPTER 44

  ALEX

  July 24

  Hey Journal,

  I didn’t get grounded! This is so awesome. Daddy said he was caught between a rock and a hard spot. I’m not sure what that means, but it was good for me. The only reason I got off is cause Marquetta was involved. Anyway, I told Daddy I’d give myself a one-hour time-out. He was still kinda grumpy, but he went along with it. Let’s hope I gave him a way out of that weird place he was in. I don’t want him getting too mad at me for what I’m gonna do during my time-out.

  I’m doing some more checking on Mr. Spaulding. He wears those awful shirts, so there’s gotta be something wrong with him.

  Bye for now,

  Alex

  I grab my computer and go to Mr. Spaulding’s website. He seems pretty suspicious to me. There are four links for different kinds of stuff Mr. Spaulding sells. There are links for antiques, artwork, pottery, and ceramics. The links for antiques and ceramics go nowhere. They’re dead.

  Maybe I can find something with a search. One of our teachers was telling us about online security. She said the search engines store everything, sometimes even after you delete it. It takes me five or six tries, but when I search again, I find an option to view a cached copy. This time I get pictures of antiques. One of them is a picture of a bowl exactly like the one they found on the beach. But this one’s all in one piece. Holy cow, that’s gotta mean Mr. Spaulding was lying all along.

  I take a screenshot. I don’t know how long they’ll leave this old copy out there, but I’m not gonna let it disappear.

  I’m not sure how to tell my dad about this, but I have to find a way. Mr. Spaulding might’ve gotten scared after me and Daddy talked to him. I’m gonna put the screenshot into the photos on my phone. I gotta get my dad to look at it before he gets mad about me investigating again. If he doesn’t see proof Mr. Spaulding is lying, he’ll take my phone away and ground me for a month.

  With my phone in my back pocket, I open my door. A couple of voices are coming from down the hall. It’s Marquetta and Daddy. It sounds like they’re in the Jib Room. Standing outside the door, it sounds like they’re laying out the tarp to paint.

  If I don’t tell Daddy now, I may never want to do it. I don’t wanna lose my phone or my computer, but it’s like that now or never thing grownups are all obsessed with. I pull my phone out, bring up the photo of
the rice bowl, and take another look. Now or never. I totally get it.

  CHAPTER 45

  RICK

  “She just wants to help, Rick,” Marquetta said as she pulled on the plastic tarp.

  Rick pulled his end in the opposite direction and secured it to the floor with a strip of blue tape. “I know. But I worry about her. Keeping her safe is my top priority.”

  “You can’t protect her forever. She has to make her own mistakes. Do you want her to…”

  Marquetta stopped in mid sentence and stared at the door. Rick turned to see what she was looking at. It was Alex. She had her phone in her hand and kept looking from it to his face and then back again.

  “What’s up, kiddo? You look…undecided.”

  Alex’s jaw tightened and without a word she marched across the plastic tarp and held out her phone so Rick could see the screen.

  “That’s nice. What is it?”

  “It’s what the lady was holding in her hand when she was murdered.”

  Rick shook his head. “No, kiddo, that was a fragment. This is a whole piece.”

  “I know, Daddy, but look at it. It’s the same design.”

  Marquetta came over and inspected the image. She pulled back a bit and frowned. “She’s right, Rick. It’s the same as the fragment Deputy Cunningham showed us.”

  “How do you two remember that?” Rick asked. He quickly added, “Never mind. Even if it is, this piece is whole. The one on the beach was broken. Where did you find this photo, Alex?”

  “It was on Mr. Spaulding’s website,” she said.

  Marquetta snickered. “Our colorblind guest has a website, too?”

  Rick planted his legs wide and crossed his arms over his chest. “You were spying on Mr. Spaulding? You did this during your ‘time-out’? Are you kidding me?”

  “Daddy…”

  “Rick…hear her out. What if this is important?”

  Rick gazed into Marquetta’s eyes and saw genuine concern. All she wanted was the best for him and his little girl. This day had been difficult enough already. To top it off, she was right. He took in a deep breath. Held it. Let it go.

  “All right, give me your best pitch, Alex. This had better be good. Otherwise, I’m taking away your phone, your computer, and sending you to a convent.”

  Alex launched into a tale of fortune hunters, black market antiques, and murder. By the time she’d finished, Rick found himself struggling for the words to convey his displeasure without going into a rant about disobedience. But even though he wanted to reprimand Alex, he saw how earnest she was. How she worried she might have angered him. He also could still hear Deputy Cunningham reminding him how much they needed new ideas to solve this murder. Taking another long breath, he spoke in measured tones.

  “Your story is pretty farfetched, Alex. I think Marquetta would agree with me.”

  Marquetta nodded, then took Alex’s hands in hers. “I know you want your dad to believe you, but I think you’ve let your imagination get in the way again. I believe you about the rice bowl, but this whole thing of a fake antique empire would never work.”

  “But why else would he delete all those pages on his website?”

  Alex gazed up at Rick. She had little worry lines all around her blue eyes, and her freckled cheeks were tight. She was just his little girl, not a professional detective, and he couldn’t bring himself to reprimand her for believing in a fantasy world in which pirates and treasure were the norm.

  “Daddy? Are you sending me to a convent?”

  He hugged her, kissed her forehead, and then held her at arm’s length. “No. I’m not sending you away.” He caught a glimpse of Marquetta, who was frowning and had her hand over her mouth. What was that about? He’d ask later, but for now he had to deal with Alex’s fantasy world.

  “I won’t deny you’ve done some good investigation work, kiddo. Howie Dockham said I might have been asking the wrong questions. And now you’ve got me thinking all is not what it appears with Mr. Spaulding. So here’s what I’m going to do. I’m calling Deputy Cunningham, and we’ll ask Mr. Spaulding for an explanation of why he may have had a replica of the rice bowl fragment from the beach on his website. I am not, however, going to accuse him of everything else you came up with. Especially of being a black marketeer.”

  “You go call Adam and deal with Mr. Spaulding,” Marquetta said. “I’ll stay with Alex. We’ll make something nice for dinner. Would you like that, Sweetie?”

  “Very much.” Alex slipped from Rick’s arms and into Marquetta’s.

  “Thank you,” Rick mouthed.

  Marquetta swallowed hard as she held onto Alex and watched Rick’s face. “You’re welcome.”

  Alex hugged Marquetta, but a moment later she pulled back and asked, “Am I grounded?”

  Rick smiled. “No, you’re not. Grounding you seems to give you more time to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong. So you’re on kitchen duty. Marquetta will keep an eye on you while I call Deputy Cunningham.”

  He walked to his office, struggling with how to approach Adam. Should he take a lesson from Alex? Take a rash action and beg forgiveness after the fact? No. It wasn’t what he wanted her to do. Or the kind of example he wanted to set. He called the police station and explained what had happened.

  Deputy Cunningham said, “Man, am I glad you’re getting to spend time on this. I’m sure not. The chief actually did a lot of work and I never realized how much until now. I’m still trying to figure it all out. What do you need from me?”

  A flock of birds winged their way across Rick’s view on the horizon. What did he want? “An official reason to question Allan Spaulding.”

  “That we may not have. He said he didn’t see anything, I still don’t have the results of the AFID query, and the background check I ran on him came up pretty clean.”

  “My daughter doesn’t need any encouragement when it comes to a murder investigation, so I didn’t tell her this, but she made a good point. Why would a man take down large portions of his website when he’s trying to relocate his business? I’m sure they taught him better in business school.”

  “I’m not sure Mr. Spaulding was paying attention, Rick. Your Mr. Spaulding started business school three times.”

  “What?” Rick sat up straight in his chair and pressed the phone to his ear. “He told Francine he got his degree from Berkeley. It took him three tries?”

  “Not exactly. According to what I found, he started there, but never finished. He went to three different schools.”

  “Something’s not right, Adam. This guy had a full standoff with Francine over schools. He owns a taser, but he claims he left it back home. Do you suppose he’s lying about that like he did his education?”

  “Jackpot. You may have hit the mother lode, Rick.”

  “I’m going to ask him about it. Do you want to be there?”

  “Rick, I said ‘may.’ This could be a coincidence—or he could be dangerous. Either way, you should stay away from him.”

  “He seems to have found a spot he likes on one of our couches.”

  “Rick! Did you hear me? I said stay away from him.”

  “I heard you, Adam. But if he’s a killer, I don’t want him running free around my B&B. If you don’t hear back from me in about two minutes, that means you’d better get over here.”

  Rick disconnected the call and went downstairs. Sure enough, Mr. Spaulding was in the same spot he’d been earlier. As Rick approached, he eyed his guest’s gaudy shirt. He took a seat next to Spaulding and smiled at him. How could anyone who had any sense of color wear something like that shirt? Unless Marquetta was right. What if Spaulding was colorblind? Howie had said no respectable forger would make a stupid mistake like using the wrong color underglaze. Unless the forger couldn’t distinguish colors.

  “That’s a wild shirt, Mr. Spaulding,” Rick said.

  The other man looked down and frowned. “You think so?”

  “I do. So are the others you’ve been we
aring.”

  Mr. Spaulding shrugged as he looked at the shirt again, then smiled at Rick. “They don’t seem wild to me.”

  “Are you by any chance colorblind?” Rick asked.

  Mr. Spaulding flinched, then fingered his collar and frowned at Rick. “What are you getting at? You think I can’t tell what colors I’m wearing?”

  “I think the colors you see are more muted than what others see. That’s all.”

  Spaulding glanced at his shirt again and grimaced. “I’ve always had difficulty. The doctors tossed around some big words, but I’ve never known anything different. I guess you can’t miss what you never had—right?”

  Rick’s phone pinged with the signal for a message. He glanced at the display. The message was from Deputy Cunningham.

  —On my way. Don’t talk to him until I get there.

  Too late, thought Rick. He pocketed his phone and gazed at Allan Spaulding.

  CHAPTER 46

  RICK

  “My ex was always telling me I had no fashion sense at all,” Rick said. “I get it. But you’re an artist, aren’t you? How do you get around it there?”

  “It’s no problem.” Spaulding chuckled and lowered his voice as though he were sharing a trade secret. “People only see the final product. They don’t know if it was supposed to be red or green.”

  Rick laughed along with his guest. Friendly. Encouraging. Get him to talk. “I never thought of it that way. So you’ve never tried to match a color for someone?”

  “That would be difficult, wouldn’t it?”

  “How clever. Right? I can’t even wrap my head around it.” Rick laughed again and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his finger. “So you’re telling me the people who buy your glass and ceramics are only buying them because they think the piece is pretty. That’s brilliant.”

  “I know.” Spaulding beamed at Rick. “If they ask me to make something in a particular color, I tell them I won’t do it. I have to have full artistic control.” He laughed again. “You’d be surprised how often they go for it.”