A Deadly Development (Hang Ten Australian Cozy Mystery Book 2)

by Stacey Alabaster

  But not me. I was going to meet up with one of the protesters, a young woman name Julie, later that morning down on the beach.

  But first I had to get J off to school.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead!” I called out.

  I shook the box of cereal and called out to her again when there was still no sight—or sound—from her. What was she doing, lying in on a school day?

  J finally walked into the kitchen looking bleary-eyed. “Have you forgotten?” she asked me, pouting a little bit. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and a back to front baseball cap. Uh oh. That was not her school uniform.

  “Forgotten what?” I asked slowly.

  “It’s a teacher stop work day. All classes are cancelled.”

  I groaned and then immediately realized that made it sound like I didn’t want her to be home with me for the day. “Show me,” I said. I picked up the notice that J had pulled out of her school bag and double-checked that she wasn’t just trying to pull a fast one on me. I looked at it with the light on the other side, as though the note might be counterfeit. You never know.

  Then I remembered all the protestors outside the school. The stop work day was also related to the teachers wanting to get paid better wages.

  “Are you sure you told me about this?” I asked, once I was satisfied that the note was legit and that the date was actually today’s.

  She shrugged a little. “Maybe I only told Matt.”

  “Yeah, well, your uncle never told me.”

  I walked in through the door of Captain Eightball’s with J trailing behind me. Matt was clearing breakfast trays from the table and had an armful of plates with bits of sausage and hash browns on them.

  “Why isn’t J at school?” Matt asked, concerned. “Is she sick?”

  I crossed my arms. Great. So he didn’t remember either. “You didn’t tell me about the stop work day, Matt!”

  He grimaced a little but then went back to smiling and clearing tables. The food smelled amazing. Too bad I was only allowed the banana milkshakes now. “Whoops, slipped my mind, I guess.” Yeah, easy for him to say when it was not his day to have J.

  “Well, she’s going to have to stay here with you,” I said, glancing around Captain Eightball’s. The breakfast rush was over and she would be able to slip into one of the booths and play games on her phone without anyone being too worried.

  “No way!” he responded quickly. “You know what the manager says about that. She won’t be any hassle with you down at the beach for the day.”

  Darn. Well, yeah. That would be true if what I was planning to do was sit around trying to sell surfboards all day. But that was not what I was planning to do.

  I hesitated.

  “Is that going to be a problem, Alyson?”

  I shook my head and backed out, holding J’s hand as we left. Yet another wave that had dumped me in the surge. Oh, well. Time to reassess. Catch the next one. Maybe J could actually be of some use in this situation.

  As soon as we were outside, J started to run off toward the beach. “I can’t wait to go for a swim!” she called out in glee.

  I had to jog a little to catch up with her, but it wasn’t that difficult with her short legs. “Uh, we are not actually going to the beach today,” I said. I’d decided that my original plans were not a good idea. I had a better idea.

  “Oh?” she asked, looking intrigued. She was always the sort of kid who loved mystery, and loved surprises. She never got upset when things didn’t pan out the way she was expecting them to. In fact, she got excited.

  “We are going to go down to the construction site.”

  “Ooh,” she said, rubbing her hands together.

  “But you have to promise me you won’t tell Uncle Matt anything about this.”

  She reached out her hand. “Pinky promise.”

  I coughed as the dust hit my lungs and pulled J back a little bit. I didn’t want her inhaling dusty air. But it was also important that she see this. You know what they say about kids being the future and everything. Maybe people like Joel and myself hadn’t been able to stop the development. But there was always the next generation.

  “This looks gross,” she said, kicking a pile of stones that had been piled up by the truck.

  I agreed. “It sure does, doesn’t it?”

  J looked up at me earnestly. “We should do something to stop it,” she said, sounding passionate. “It is going to block all the views of the ocean!”

  I sighed a little and sat down on a bench nearby. “I was trying to do something to stop it,” I said. “And so was my friend Joel.”

  “The man who died?” J asked. She’d seen the news.

  I nodded. “Except I fear we may have made things worse.” I’d heard Troy Emerald on the radio that morning, saying that he was more determined than ever to have the development go ahead after everything that had happened. That it had only made his conviction stronger.

  “So what can we do?” J asked, jumping up.

  I had to think about this. Her young enthusiasm was giving me some new-found inspiration. “Well, we could start a petition. Get signatures from people in the town who don’t want this development ruining everything.” But real people this time, not just the professional protesters who blew in and out and from cause to cause.

  “How do we do that?” J asked, frowning. I had to explain to her what a petition was and that we’d need someone to go door to door to talk to people and get them to sign. Her frown turned to a smile as I explained the process to her.

  “I can do that!” she announced. I was about to say, no of course you can’t, when I suddenly realized that it would actually be a brilliant idea. How would anyone be able to say no to J’s sweet little face?

  “That might have to be another thing we keep a secret from Uncle Matt,” I said with a wink.

  I held my breath when I saw the Porsche pull up and Troy Emerald step out and walk toward the construction site. Who was that woman with him? All I could make out from that distance was blonde hair.

  J was still eager to know when we could get started with the petition. “Looks like you need all the help you can get,” she said.

  “Claire was helping me,” I said as I showed her the safe spot to spy from, where we wouldn’t be seen by Troy.

  “So where is she now?”

  “Well, she thought she knew better and had a little tantrum. Anyway, I’m better off without her! I’ve got you, don’t I?” I reached over and ruffled her hair.

  J shrugged a little “When I have a fight with a friend, I just offer to pay for some ice cream and that usually solves it.”

  Good advice. I just didn’t think it was going to be applicable in this case.

  Troy was wandering around the site. “Is that him?” J asked, sticking her head up. I wanted to tell her she was sticking her head up too far and giving us away, but I remembered that she was just a kid and was overly enthusiastic.

  “Yes,” I whispered as I watched.

  “He looks really…slimy,” J said, giggling.

  I laughed a little as well. Then fought the urge to tell her that he had actually seemed all right that first time I had met him, down at the beach.

  Hang on. The blonde woman. Was that…Claire?

  I could not believe it.

  What were they doing together? She was giving him a moony look like she was in love with him or something. Wow. I leave Claire alone for one day and she’s off on a date with Troy Emerald?

  I stood up and started to hurry off.

  “Alyson? Where are we going?”

  “We’re getting out of here.”

  I had pushed back the deadline one more day. I still couldn’t get the water to look realistic. The sun was already setting as I stared into the real waves and tried to figure out how to get the board I was painting to look like that.

  I heard a throat clearing behind me and I turned my head sharply. Great. “You’re going to ruin those pants,” I mentioned, eyeing the bottoms of th
e expensive suit.

  Troy walked around so that he was in front of me. “I thought I saw you hanging around down at the development lot today?” he asked as he shoved his hands into his pockets. He seemed more downtrodden than usual.

  “You must have been mistaken.” I picked up a paintbrush and moved my attention to a different board with a different design and began to fill in the outline of a palm tree. A little bit of a basic design, but that was what the customer had asked for. I got a lot of requests for palm trees.

  “So that wasn’t you down there today with your niece?”

  I shook my head casually like I was barely paying attention to his words. As though he was just a small distraction like the mosquitos hanging around at that time of night. He was just as big of a bloodsucker as any insect.

  “I’d still like to learn to surf properly one of these days.” Troy said. His voice sounded a little sad.

  I looked up at him. “Look, I don’t know what your deal is, but you really don’t need to suck up to me, okay? You don’t need to keep hanging around here, either. I don’t know what you want from me, but it would be better for both of us if you just racked off.”

  But then he said something that shocked me.

  “Alyson. I’m unwell.” His voice was thin, almost blown away by the sea breeze as he stared into the ocean. “I’m not even sure how much longer I have to live. That’s why I need your help.”

  I dropped my paintbrush into the sand. “Are you being serious with me, Troy?”

  He nodded. “And that man who was killed… Alyson, he knew.”

  9

  Claire

  “Welcome to Mornings in Eden, your morning dose of paradise here on 3RFM!” The voice was way too chipper for this early in the morning. I needed at least two coffees before I could listen to the two hosts’ banter. It was some local FM station with DJs who didn’t sound like they even knew how to use a mic, and there were all these awkward pauses in between the ‘jokes.’ I wondered what their salary was. Probably all run by volunteers anyway. I leaned over and turned it off, letting my eyes adjust to the morning light. Peace at last. I’d much rather listen to some highly-produced podcasts, hosted and produced by experts in their field. People who actually knew what they were talking about.

  I could see a glimmer of the ocean through my window. My little morning dose of paradise. Someone like Matt would probably tell me not to be such a snob. That was something I heard a lot, actually. “Don’t be such a snob, Claire.” But why not? Why shouldn’t I be discerning about the things I listened to or digested? There was no sense in lowering my standards just because that’s what everyone else thought was cool, or acceptable. Some people need to be the tastemakers.

  The ocean views were calling me closer. Time for a run. That meant I needed something to listen to and the local FM radio was not going to cut it.

  My eyes were a little blurry from sleep still as I browsed through the new release section of the podcast store. When I saw the name “Eden Bay” pop up, I thought I was still dreaming. Surely there were no podcasts about Eden Bay. Please tell me this isn’t just a podcast version of that terrible FM station.

  “What is this?” I said out loud as I tapped on the ‘more info’ icon and read the description. Ha. No way. A true crime podcast about Eden Bay? I was more than intrigued. I had to listen to it. There were two episodes, each thirty minutes long. Well, my run wouldn’t go for longer than an hour. So that was just perfect.

  Justin St. Clair was the name of the podcaster. Great last name, at least to say out loud. But it would have been better with an E on the end. That was the correct way to spell Claire, everyone knew that. At first, I found his voice a little too nasally and annoying, but it grew on me as the episode progressed and he delved deep into the recent mysteries of innocent-seeming little Eden Bay. I shook my head. To be fair, he had painted a fairly accurate picture of the town. I wondered if he was having any guests on the show in future episodes. I could certainly fill him in on some of these gaps he was missing.

  I was passing the Flower of Life Hotel, which was really more a set of serviced apartments. Executives here on business stayed there. Most likely Troy Emerald and his coworkers were being put up there while they were trying to get the development going. I wondered if this podcast guy was staying in one of them. Probably couldn’t afford it.

  But could I?

  “Apartment for rent.”

  I stopped jogging and pulled out one of the earbuds. My chest was heaving from the run. The Flower of Life was offering long-term accommodations, only a couple of apartments, for a cheaper price than the short-term. Huh.

  I walked up to the window of one of the ground floor rooms and peered through. Sure, it was nice. Enough. I would have switched the decor in the living room, changed the blue sofa covers for white. And marble countertops would have been a nice touch. It probably needed a little more sunlight as well. Maybe one of the higher floors would be better

  But interesting nonetheless. I stayed and stared through the window for longer than I intended.

  There was a throat clearing.

  I jumped and saw the reflection standing behind me in the window.

  I could smell seawater behind me. Refreshing. Salty.

  “So you are thinking about staying put after all.” Matt couldn’t quite hide his grin. He was wearing a wetsuit, but he had the top part stripped off and hanging about his waist, leaving him topless.

  I slowly spun around. “Just checking out the local real estate, that’s all. Seeing if it’s as badly priced as everything else in this town.” I still couldn’t figure out what business in this town made a profit with all the free trades and discounts people did.

  He shook his head and laughed at my snobbish ways, good-heartedly of course. He looked especially bronzed on that day. He nodded toward the sign that said that the apartments would be leased on a first come first serve basis. “Looks like you might have to snap one of these up.”

  Hmm. I didn’t like to be rushed or pressured into things. “I tend to think things through a little bit more. Unlike that sister of yours.”

  He shrugged a little. Looked like he knew something I didn’t, which made me feel uneasy. “You’re here now though, aren’t you? You left Sydney, and your job, on a whim.”

  I had to compose myself a little before I answered that question. Yes. That was a fair assessment. I had acted rather spontaneously in that decision. But at the time, it had felt right to drive away from my job and come back to Eden Bay. That didn’t mean that my entire personality had changed. Just that I was able to make judgement calls in the moment. “My apartment there is being sublet. I can go back to it any time.” So yeah, it was spontaneous. But with a parachute cord I could pull any time. A safety net.

  “Coffee?” he offered. “We can even go somewhere else besides Captain Eightball’s. Really treat ourselves.”

  It was tempting. Especially with him standing there still a little damp and disheveled from the sea. I shook my head. “I’ve got to get back to the shop,” I said with a long, heavy sigh.

  “You don’t sound very happy about that,” he said. I hated how perceptive he was. I also hated how he always seemed to know exactly what I was thinking and feeling, even if my words were saying otherwise.

  “It’s not the shop,” I said. I still loved the shop itself. “It’s the fact that all my customers have deserted me for the library.”

  He nodded a little. That look was back. The one that made it seem like he knew a secret I didn’t. “Hmm, sounds like you can spare some time for a coffee after all then?”

  Eden Bay had more coffee shops than most small towns. But that was mostly because of the tourist trade during the summer and other warm months. All those tourists wanted somewhere to eat and drink. “Isn’t it a little bit early for ice coffee?” I asked skeptically as I sat down at One Shot Double Shot and listened to Matt make his order.

  “Haha, nah, never too early for ice cream,” he said w
ith a grin. “I don’t care what they do in other places. Iced coffee just isn’t right without the ice cream.” I still wasn’t quite used to his broad Aussie accent, the one I never really heard in Sydney where people tended to speak with more of an English clipped accent that made them sound posh. Matt’s sounded like my old accent—the one that I had lost years before. The one that made me feel at home.

  I ordered a short black with a side of sweetener and noticed the waitress make a face as she walked away.

  I glanced over the wooden table at Matt. “Did I say something wrong?”

  “You just stick out a little here, that’s all…strange considering that you grew up here.”

  Well, that was both true and not true. I’d moved to Eden Bay when I was nine years old, then moved away again just after I’d turned 19. Still, a decade in this town did count for something, I supposed. It was the place that most felt like ‘home’. Whatever that word meant. Sometimes when I woke up in the Dolphin (F)inn and rolled over and saw the cheap bedspread and heard the amateur radio announcers, I had to wonder why I was making that my temporary home. I was having trouble finding somewhere I belonged. The shop had always felt like home. But that had been lonely as well recently. I told Matt about the incident with Maria and how she had decided to start a rebellion, taking her books and my customers to the library.

  He shrugged a little. “Never been to the library.” He laughed a little awkwardly. “Never been much of a reader.”

  Right. I was silent for a few moments. Reading was a pretty big pastime for me. My biggest pastime, actually. I mean…I ran a bookstore. What did Matt and I even have in common, besides the fact that I was friends with his sister?

  “But, um, maybe I should check out this library,” Matt said as his iced coffee arrived. Not only was it full of ice cream—at nine in the morning—but it was also topped with whipped cream from a can and sprinkled with chocolate shavings. I was happy with my espresso and no calorie sweetener.