A Tell-Tale Treasure

by Megan Marple

  A Tell-Tale Treasure

  A Tell-Tale Tavern Mystery Prequel

  Megan Marple

  A Tell-Tale Treasure © Megan Marple 2017.

  Amazon Kindle First Edition.

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the copyright holder, except in the case of brief quotations embodied within critical reviews and articles.

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  The author has asserted his/her rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  About the Author

  1

  Boredom dripped off me with each little bead of sweat that slipped down the back of my neck and into my shirt collar. End of summer boredom was the absolute worst. With seventh grade on the other side of August, all I could do was worry about life at Capers Cove Junior High School and whether I was going to make it out alive or not. Even my best friend Jessica was nervous. And she never got nervous.

  “I don’t know, Edie . . . I heard that gym class is brutal, like you have to change into your gym clothes in front of everyone. And you know how my mom is. She won’t even let me shave my legs yet!” she confessed to me on my front porch, right after our year of being top dogs at the elementary school had ended.

  Then she had to go and get herself sent to summer camp, with its horse-back riding and whitewater rafting, leaving me behind in the sand right after fourth of July weekend. It was sort of Jess’s fault that I was so bored, if you thought about it.

  I flopped back on my Nana’s daybed, sighing. Little puffs and bits of dust fluttered around me as they floated past in the sunlight, coming in through the window to the guest room. The gross warm air definitely wasn’t helping me feel any better, and with Nana and Granddaddy refusing to let me open the windows to my temporary bedroom for the week, I was stuck breathing it in.

  “One of these days we’ll have a central unit put in, Lois, I promise,” Granddaddy told Nana after the air conditioner had went out for the millionth-time the night before. Each time it happened she would mutter something definitely not rated PG under her breath and look at me with a warning in her eyes, as if she was daring me to repeat her. Nope. Not unless I wanted a fresh bar of soap in my mouth.

  A familiar cawing came from outside the room, and I sat up and pushed back the lacy white curtains to see Poe sitting on the windowsill planter, his glossy black feathers shining under the morning sun.

  Most people wouldn’t think much of it, seeing a beautiful raven like Poe flying overhead because he was just a bird, and birds weren’t of much consequence to anybody or anything. But Poe was different. And not just the normal ‘oh, he’s different,’ either. Ordinary birds couldn’t talk to you, for instance.

  Glancing over my shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, I carefully unlatched the window lock and eased the heavy thing up inch by inch. “Already find some breakfast? Lucky you,” I whispered to him, running my fingers lightly over his soft dark chest. Poe nipped at them as I smiled.

  Suddenly a quick burst of images flashed inside my mind, leaving me a little dizzy. I was no longer looking at Poe—I was looking down at the island many feet below me, gliding along before landing on a nearby light pole, my vision zeroing in on something scurrying off between some trees. Breakfast, croaked Poe inside my head.

  Wrinkling up my nose, I laughed. “Gross. I was thinking more along the lines of some oatmeal, Poe-boy,” I said. Poe let out a croaky squawk at me and headbutted my hand out of the way.

  “Okay, okay. Tasty morning mice then.”

  He looked at me with his small dark eyes and I could’ve sworn I saw a smile. And if any bird could smile, it was Poe. He took off again and flew out of sight just as footsteps came down the hallway.

  I quickly shut the window and flopped back down in bed, pretending to read the magazine Nana had picked up for me.

  A split second later Nana peeked into the room, pushing her big round sunglasses up on top of her graying blonde hair. “Hey sug, I’m about to make some scrambled eggs. Would you like some?”

  I wanted to grin as she wiped her sweaty forehead with her gloved hands, a smudge of potting soil left over on her cheek, but a swipe of guilt hit me since I’d been lazing around inside instead of out there helping her in the garden.

  “Yes, ma’am. But is it all right if I come with you today?”

  Nana and Granddaddy would both be working at the tavern, and as boring as it would be to hang out around the tavern, at least I could go and sit on the beach there. And since I hadn’t earned enough allowance to buy a bike yet, I didn’t really have any way to get around the island.

  “To Tell-Tale?”

  I nodded. “I mean . . . I don’t really have anything else to do. I’ve already read this three times. I could just walk along the beach! Poe will probably follow me.”

  Nana narrowed her eyes at me as she worked the question over in her mind. “Sure, you can come, but I don’t know if you’ll be much better off there.”

  “I’ll be fine. Like I said, I’ll have Poe.”

  Nana snorted at me and pulled her gloves off. “I don’t know how you get that crazy bird to follow you around like that, “she said, before turning around and heading back down the hallway. “Well, if you’re coming, you’d better hurry up. Me and Granddaddy have to open up in an hour.”

  --

  It didn’t take long before I was done helping set up for the morning crew as Granddaddy called them—the early people that came as soon as the Tell-Tale Tavern opened up.

  The tavern was sorta like my home away from home since my family had always owned it. With Edgar Allan Poe being one of our ancestors, it had just made sense to my Granddaddy’s great-grandparents to open up a tavern in his name. It was a staple on the island, and most of the islanders would come by and have a drink or something to eat at any given time during the week. The Tell-Tale was almost like my family’s pride and joy. But to me? Meh, it wasn’t really anything great. I had begged my grandparents to make space for a dance floor, that way, anyone who wasn’t a rich, exclusive member to The Island Club, would be able to come and have fun and dance. “I’ll take that suggestion and file it away in the box,” my Granddaddy said each time I brought it up.

  After I finished rolling the silverware in the napkins, I leaned back in the dim booth, drumming my fingers on the table. At least they could get some better lighting in here, I thought glumly to myself.

  “Hey hon,” Mrs. Gentry said as she took a seat at the table she always sat at. “Where’s Natalie and Gregory?”

  I swirled the straw around inside my water. “They’re visiting friends in Myrtle Beach. Won’t be back until Monday, I think.”

  “Aw, and I bet you’re just as bored as the dog that caught up to the car, aren’t ya? You oughta see what my baby Andrea is doing! I think her and some of her friends are down by The Island Club, boogie-boardin’.”

  I faked a smile and nodded. Yeah right, I thought to myself. Andrea, Leslie, and the rest of them all think I’m a total weirdo. I doubt they wanted me hanging around.

  Once the rest of Mrs. Gentry’s friends in the Bridge Cl
ub sat down, the sound of them talking over each other reminded me of a bunch of hens pecking around the dirt, and I slid out of the booth with my water in hand.

  Outside it was another hot August day, the sun beating down on me and smothering me with the humidity. Nana would always say that it was hotter than a sinner in church outside. Thank goodness we were at the tavern which backed up to the ocean-side of Capers Cove. The breeze off the water gave you a little bit of relief, at least. Good ol’ boring Capers Cove… I’d been thinking lately about how nothing ever happened around the island, unless there was a hurricane about to hit. And even then, it was only just because people were throwin’ hurricane parties all over the place.

  “Mornin’, Edie!” Mr. Whipple called out to me loudly, his music blasting through his thick headphones as he jogged past me wearing nothing but his usual way-too-small speedo and a pair of white sneakers. I waved back weakly, embarrassed.

  Well. Okay, maybe Capers Cove was a little weirder than I gave it credit for…

  I jumped off the last step of the back deck and took my flip-flops off. The sand was hot between my toes and my bright green nail polish almost looked like mermaid scales as I rushed out over to where the wet sand was much cooler. Pulling out a piece of bubblegum, I popped it in my mouth and started down the beach, the cold water washing over my feet.

  A lot of people considered my little hometown to be paradise. I saw it every summer during what my family called the ‘tourist season,’ when everyone and their mama would come over the drawbridge from the busy downtown of Charleston, just after doing their holiday shopping and sightseeing. They’d come to Capers Cove for a little more peace and quiet, and even stay the week at one of the two bed & breakfasts on the island. But Capers Cove was a small island town so eventually everyone would get bored of it and hurry back to their regular lives, leaving me stuck there with not even a darn bike to ride around on.

  I kicked at the wet sand and winced as I accidentally stubbed my toe on one of the hidden little rocks that led up to the much bigger rocks jutting up out of the water the closer you got to the lighthouse. “Ouch!”

  Yanking a piece of beechwood up out of the ground, I traced my name in the sand, sandwiching it in between two fat hearts. Man, it sucks not having Jess here, I thought miserably.

  This was the first summer I could remember both looking forward to the end, and dreading it too. On one hand, I was ready for the steady traffic from the summer to go away, and ready for something more than just walking the beach by myself to do. But on the other hand… knowing that Andrea and her stupid friends would be giggling at me behind their hands all over again in school made me want to stay home and fake the bubonic plague forever.

  Even with walking as slow as molasses, on Capers Cove it didn’t take very long to get from one end of the island to the other, and before I knew it the lighthouse stood tall up ahead. The closer I got, the slower I went as the rocks got bigger, until they pretty much blocked my way. I knew my parents would be mad if they saw me climbing over the huge gray and brown boulders that led up to the lighthouse grounds, but I didn’t feel like having to go all the way around them just to get to the other side. Looking back over my shoulder, I slipped my flip-flops on and prayed they wouldn’t be too slippery as I hiked up over the first few rocks.

  Just like I figured, they were slippery as an eel, and I had to hold on tight every time I slid myself across each surface. The last thing I wanted to be was shark bait, so I carefully picked my way over the widest boulder and waited until the waves had just crashed against it before I made a frantic leap to the next one.

  But I wasn’t known for being the most graceful, and my left foot slipped, causing me to let out a shrieking yelp as I fell the few feet down into the sand, sharp little pebbles stabbing at my hands and knees from where I caught myself.

  “Ugh,” I groaned, slowly standing up and inspecting the small gash under one of my knees. After I realized I’d had worst injuries from my first year of Taekwondo, I turned back to the rocks and glared.

  The wet rocks didn’t seem to care as they continued to get pummeled by the waves, and the hot sun above created its own heatwaves of invisible blur around the rocks. Shoot, it really is going to be a warm one today, I thought.

  Just as I started to turn and head down the tail of the island to the sound side, something caught my eye among the rocks. I squinted, sure it was just the spray off the waves reflecting the sun, but as I took a closer look, I saw that it was something else entirely.

  Stuck between two smaller boulders against the larger ones, was a small dark brown bottle. I rolled my eyes as I imagined one of the dumb tourists having too many drinks out on the beach like some of them do, throwing their trash out into the water. “Some people only have one oar in the water, I swear,” I muttered.

  I wrapped my fingers around the opening of the bottle but it was stuck and there was no way I’d be able to get it out without busting the darn thing open.

  Taking a closer look, I noticed there was something inside the bottle, and with the cork stuck in it, it was more than just water.

  I popped the cork out, the loud pop echoing as I peered inside. It looked pretty dry except for some condensation slicked along the glass, but there really was something inside. Hooking my fingers inside the bottle, I pulled out an old wrinkled up piece of weird paper.

  “What in the world . . ?” my voice trailed off as I unfolded the damp brownish paper. There were lines crossing all over what looked like the shape of a skinny ‘D’, with both creases in the paper and hand-drawn lines with words I couldn’t make out written underneath. The smudged lines crisscrossed everywhere, but there was a tiny compass rose in the corner, marking out North, South, East, and West. That’s when it hit me.

  A map! It was a map of something… and the worn down reddish-brown ‘x’ scrawled along one of the lines meant only one thing.

  I’d just found a treasure map.

  2

  “Oh. My. Gosh.”

  I held up the map against the horizon, the sun outlining the jagged edges of it. It was definitely a map, with the compass and the little squiggly lines that must have been waves. So at least I knew there was water on the map, although I wasn’t sure what exactly it was part of. The few letters I could see that hadn’t been messed up from water or time, spelled out ‘A-P-E-R-F C-O-V-E.’ I frowned. What the heck was Aperf Cove?

  Turning the map this way and that, I still couldn’t make out very much else except for those letters and the compass that looked like it was floating in a sun on top of the water. The shape of the skinny ‘D’ reminded me of something, but I wasn’t sure what.

  But the little smudged ‘x’ made me wonder… was this a real, honest-to-God Pirate’s map? Like the ones you see in the movies? Mrs. Holt, my history teacher in school, used to tell us stories about some of the pirates that would sail up and down the east coast. They weren’t the funny, peg-legged kind you saw at Disney World, either. They were savages, taking everything they wanted and killing anyone who got in the way. I had done a report on the real Pirates of the Caribbean in sixth grade and snagged an A+, so I knew what I was talking about.

  With the map stuck in my back pocket, I ran up the sand dunes between the lighthouse and the overflow parking lot next to it, my flip-flops sending sprays of sand everywhere as I went.

  There was a small group of people standing around looking at the landmark signs next to the lighthouse, including a tall, skinny boy with a messy mop of blonde hair who was completely in his own world listening to something in his headphones. I looked at him funny, wondering who in the world would wear a hoodie when it was so hot outside.

  The dune finally levelled off and I pulled the map back out of my pocket to take another look. It didn’t really help me any, but I kept squinting at it anyway, hoping it would make sense to me. “Aw man. What are you?” I muttered to the map, my bottom lip sore from me chewing on it. Pulling out my chapstick, I quickly glided it over my mouth
and shoved it back in my pocket, sighing. It just wouldn’t do to go hunting for a treasure but not know where to look! And what if it was a map that washed up on the rocks from somewhere across the world, even? What if I’m just wasting my time? I inwardly groaned.

  Even though I wanted to keep the whole thing a secret, I knew I was going to have to enlist some kind of help. I’m not a map expert, but maybe someone else might be able to read this, I thought.

  I shielded my eyes, trying to figure out who my best bet was. Granddaddy for sure, except I wasn’t too keen on him and Nana snooping into what I was doing for the day… When I was at home with them it was no big deal, they let me have my space usually. But if I was out walking around? Forget it—they’d probably insist that I go try and ‘play’ with some of the kids on the island from school. I was way too old for that and the only one from school I really wanted to hang out with was Jessica, and she wouldn’t be back until the day before school started.

  Hiking it across the grounds of the lighthouse until I got to Main Street, I figured that if all else failed, maybe I could go to the library and use the computer there. They were bound to have maps there, right?

  “Toodle-loo! Edie, darling!” a voice shouted to me from across the street. I looked up to see Ms. Dubois waving me over to the little park next to the gas station.

  My heart sank. The last thing I wanted to do was to waste time having to listen to Ms. Dubois tell me about her newest painting of a dolphin or something, while she tried to get me to give her my palm. You see, she thought of herself as a ‘bit psychic,’ and was convinced she knew how to read palms. I had yet to see her get one single reading right.