He cruised past the turnoff for the public parking lot and sputtered up a steep hill that provided a magnificent view of Seymour Pond. Two blocks later, Casper veered up a gravel and seashell driveway. At the top, a gray-haired woman sat in a yellow Adirondack chair with a dog splayed out on the grass by her feet. She waved at Casper as he stepped out of his car.
“I think we finally found Hoagie’s breaking point,” Ann Peck said.
“Somehow, I doubt that. Frisbee?”
She shook her head. “Nope, we swam with him in the pond.”
Casper leaned down and scratched behind his dog’s ears. “Hoagie, do the words ‘spoiled rotten’ mean anything to you?”
Hoagie rolled onto his back, and Casper scratched his stomach. Few things were as inviting as a cute dog begging for a belly rub, even if the pup was a complete ham.
“Did you crack the case?” Ann asked.
Casper laughed. “In a way. It’s out of my hands now, but I think Doris and Daniel Marsh will be just fine.”
Ann smiled. “You know, if you ever decide the PI work isn’t cutting it around here, we could use some help at the library.”
“I appreciate it and will absolutely let you know. For now, I’ve got to go though. Hoagie, you ready?”
Ann rested her book on the arm of the chair and stood. Hoagie jumped and stretched with his front paws on her jeans. “Still heading out tomorrow?”
Casper nodded. “That’s the plan. Although I just got a message that Delaney needs to talk to me, so I’m less certain than before.”
Ann put a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure it’s just to plan your route south. Be excited. Meeting the parents is a big step.”
“I’m well aware…”
“Being nervous is expected, but just be yourself. Be confident and approach it like a case. The case of the potential in-laws.”
Casper raised his eyebrows.
“Too soon?”
Casper smiled. “Just a bit. It’s only been a few months.”
Ann shrugged. “Sometimes that’s all that it takes.”
“We’ll see.” She shook him off. “See you soon, Hoagie.” She leaned down and held his face. “I’ll work on my frisbee technique in the meantime.”
After dropping Hoagie back at home, Casper made the quick drive over to the Brewster Police Station and parked in the lot next to the firehouse. He moseyed toward the front doors, reached for the handle and had to dive out of the way as they busted open. A scraggly-haired man shot out like a bullet. He cackled to himself and then met eyes with Casper.
“Free as a bird, once again!” the man shouted. Casper didn’t have to look twice. He’d heard the stories of the infamous Morris Hanifin and had confirmed most of them by now. An officer smoked a cigarette next to a bench out front. He let out a groan and then nodded towards Morris. “See you soon, Hanifin.”
Morris turned back with a grin that only a mother could love. “Not if I see you first!”
Inside the station, the air hung in the early autumn stage between heat and air conditioning. Stale coffee stung Casper’s nostrils. He poked his head into the bullpen and caught Delaney’s attention. She sat at her desk behind a mountain of file folders and papers that could give Everest a run for its money. She waved him over. He glanced around the room and tiptoed towards her.
“Casper?” A voice boomed out of the corner. Casper froze and turned his head to the left. A rotund man with one button misaligned on his uniform smiled at him. “Thought that was you.”
“Chief, nice to see you.”
“Staying out of trouble?” Chief Slimmer said. He leaned against the doorframe to his office, and Casper worried that the entire building may collapse under his weight.
“Yes, sir. Detective Shepard here makes sure of it.”
Delaney looked up from her paperwork. “Who said he isn’t in trouble right now?”
Slimmer raised his eyebrows, faked a wince, and then closed his office door. Casper sat in an orange vinyl chair next to her desk. “So, am I?”
Delaney grinned, scribbled on the top of a file, and closed it. “I am one day away from the longest vacation I’ve had since I joined the force.”
“And I’m… excited to join you?” Casper asked.
“Is that a question? Are you now unsure of that?” Delaney’s poker face could do damage in Vegas.
“No. Well… the question was actually if I’m still joining you.”
She grinned. “Oh, you’re coming. Can’t get rid of me that easily. Mr. Kelly. But here I am, just minding my business today, so close to a vacation, as I may have mentioned, and I get a call about a creepy man outside of the WBCA building peering through windows.”
Casper’s cheeks turned cherry red. “I-”
“Look, Casper. If you’re into older women exercising, the internet is a wonderful place for you.” She smiled at him.
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“What was the case this time?”
“Doris Marsh.”
Delaney chuckled. “Say no more. Everything work out okay?”
“Yep. Although, I’m not certain that she’s still going to pay me. Could I hire you to shake her down for me?”
Delaney hesitated. “Can I ask a question as a detective and not as your girlfriend?”
“Uh oh.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Sure, go for it.”
“What is with these cases, Casper?”
“What do you mean?”
“When you got hired to come out here, you had this big reputation. Maybe I hadn’t heard of you, but Ann Peck had. You were the legend. Solving the unsolvable. De-mystifying the paranormal theories of the world.”
“And?”
“Then you come here and score a big win. I mean, a big one. Then you say you’re going to hunker down in Brewster to write about it and flirt with me.”
“I didn’t realize—”
“Now, I’m not complaining about that. You delivered on the second half at least. But otherwise, you’ve been taking lame-duck cases that Nancy Drew could solve.”
“Hey, don’t knock Nancy Drew.”
“I would never. But maybe it’s time to step away from the Cape.”
“Like on a road trip to meet your parents?”
“As a start, sure. When you come back, it may be time to take a good hard look at your prospects as a private investigator out here. May have to find you a new niche.”
Casper smiled. “That’s fair. Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
Delaney put both of her hands on the desk. “That and… how do you feel about splitting the drive up a bit? Stopping halfway. North Carolina.”
“What’s in North Carolina?”
“My cousin Zoe and her fiancé Gil.”
“She’s the park ranger?”
“That’s the one. She’s a delight. You’ll love her. Plus, Gil is an oddball, so you two will get along perfectly.”
“I’m game. Do you want me to look into hotels, or…”
“She’s got a spare room. The park gives her a house to live in while she’s working there. How cool is that? Maybe we both picked the wrong career.”
Casper chuckled. “Can’t wait. I’ll see you tonight?”
“As long as you show up with Eggplant Parm from Three Kings, you may even get a kiss goodnight,” Delaney said with a wink. “Get home and start packing. We hit the road in the morning.”
A half hour later, Casper jogged up the creaky stairs that led to his crow’s nest apartment over the Owl’s Nest. The hustle of the daily coffee rush had died down, but the soothing tones of Coltrane still echoed through the speakers that sat just below his floorboards. At least they have a flawless taste in music.
Something sat jammed between Casper’s door and the frame. He unlocked the door and a white envelope fell onto the ground before him. Hoagie burst through the door, armed with enough licks to melt down a lollipop. Casper scooped the note off the groun
d and turned it over as he gave Hoagie a belly rub. The front was blank. Inside, Casper found a note.
‘She’s not who you think she is,’ the note said. ‘Ask her about Raven Rock.’
Chapter Six
The smell of onions sizzling in olive oil wafted around the kitchen wall as Zoe kicked off her boots in the mudroom. She unhooked her utility belt and let it clunk on top of the wooden bench in the doorway. It had been a day like that. But cooked onions were a good sign. Gil knew food was her love language. They’d taken the quiz three times with no conclusion on his, but despite that, Zoe knew what made him tick. And it wasn’t only scientific journals and research studies.
“Is that my paramour?” Gil shouted from the kitchen.
Zoe smiled. She slipped out of her light jacket, but her finger caught on the fabric. Damn ring. She moved the jacket sleeve off like it was an egg that might crack. Sure is taking longer to get used to than those blog posts told me. She kicked off her boots and strolled towards the kitchen. “Did they send the cute chef?” Zoe said.
The familiar notes of “Lookin’ Out My Backdoor” greeted her just as warmly as the smells of Gil’s cooking. “Unfortunately, they did not.” Gil laughed. “You will have to settle for the nerdy one this time.”
“Again? Aw, shucks,” Zoe said with a grin. She sorted through bills and junk mail that was stacked on the coffee table. “Can I get a discount then? I specifically asked for the cute chef!”
Gil’s voice grew louder as she strolled into the kitchen. “Will the promise of an extra slice of homemade pizza help? I was hoping for a generous gratuity this evening.” He grinned in his navy blue apron.
Zoe let out a sigh as she slumped into Gil and he wrapped his arms around her. The embrace was warm. Familiar. She didn’t want it to end.
“Another tough shift?” Gil asked, his accent at its strongest.
“More desk work. Less legwork. Same old sh—”
“I would estimate that desk work still beats sweeping floors or life as a sanitation engineer. Both of which sound preferable to me at the moment, considering my drudge…”
Zoe leaned against the counter as Gil turned on the oven light and checked on the crust. “I take it that your day of writing didn’t go as planned?”
“I estimate I made one percent of progress.” Gil held up his pointer finger. “Within a margin of error of my sampling, so it is not significant progress.” A stray lock of his brown hair kept falling over the lines on his forehead, despite his constant head toss to keep it at bay.
“One percent every day adds up, Gil.”
“Transition, did you know this song is about LSD?”
“Did you just announce a transition? Yes, Gil. We’ve been over this a hundred—”
Gil did his best Fogerty impression as he dropped the onions into the sauce and layered on mozzarella. “Tambourines and elephants playing in the band. Won’t you take a ride on the flying spoon?”
Zoe kissed him to shut him up. “Stick to your day job. Leave the singing to the experts. Unless you’re thinking of taking some LSD and writing some music?”
“After today, perhaps that would be wise.”
“I want to hear more. I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.” Zoe headed towards the bedroom but shouted back. “Tell me about it after I change?”
Gil mumbled something as Zoe retreated into their cramped bedroom. The queen bed butted up against the two tiny nightstands that were wedged between two overstuffed dressers. They had kicked her beloved bookshelf to the curb, or more accurately, the shed in the backyard. She wrangled open the stubborn closet door, and the hinges let out a creak as they bent. The bare walls glared back at her as she changed.
A worn cardboard box collected dust at the end of the hallway, leftover from last year’s move. Zoe skirted around it each time she stepped out of the room, similar to her handling of big life decisions. Thankfully, Gil had decided for the both of them when he didn’t renew his lease. Most days, it felt like the right call.
Life as a lone wolf had been hard to walk away from, even with the promise of someday starting a pack. To family and friends, Zoe would cite Gil’s flawless taste in music (and all things CCR) and his cute dimples as reasons to keep him around. Deep down, it was his patience. The man never rushed her. Even when it came to decorating, buying a new turntable, or starting a family.
Zoe tossed her uniform top onto the bed. The only signs of wear were from the flour on Gil’s apron in the kitchen. She hung it back up in the closet, ready for another shift of paperwork tomorrow morning. The sight didn’t match her vision for the job that she’d accepted six years ago. Back then, she’d expected to come home with dirt-caked boots that stunk to high heaven and a filthy uniform that served as a proud reminder of a hard day’s work. Instead, she could almost make out creases in her pants from sitting on her ass all day.
Gil sang along to a Paul Simon record. Flour fingerprints on the plastic turntable display case looked like a crime scene that had been dusted for prints. Back in the kitchen, Cecilia was breaking Gil’s heart. That told her all she needed to hear. He’d had a decent day. Zoe had learned to understand the swings that Gil had as a struggling researcher, author, and aspiring podcaster. She’d nodded and grinned through many early drafts of chapters and episodes. It was a relief that she didn’t wake up with a sore neck. Gil never flinched when she vented about her monotonous days at work, so Zoe mirrored it back to him when he needed that support. She aimed to be his beacon of encouragement. Lighthouse in a storm. His biggest cheerleader, even if there wasn’t enough money in the world to convince her to don the pom-poms and skirt.
Gil pulled a steaming pizza topped with caramelized onions, cremini mushrooms, and red bell peppers out of the oven. Early on, Zoe longed for meat, particularly bacon, but soon grew to appreciate Gil’s vegetarian habits. It didn’t hurt that he did the lion’s share of the cooking.
“Looks delicious, dear,” Zoe smiled.
“Capsicum, er, Peppers are leftovers from the garden. The last from our summer harvest, I believe. We should triple our seeds next year.” Gil scribbled a note on the magnetic whiteboard on the fridge.
Zoe nodded and plopped herself into the wooden chair next to the kitchen table. A tan table cloth decorated with forest green pine trees stuck to her elbows as she hung her head and wallowed in self-pity. Gil examined her like an animal in a lab. “I sense that you either partook in a midday fast or are demonstrating the physical symptoms of stress.”
She shot him a look.
“Noted.” He smiled. “I once again have let the inner scientist in me emerge. No more examinations.”
She pulled her head out of her hands. “Anyway, tell me about your day. Give me some good news.”
“Nothing remarkable happened. The progress I made in the morning was encouraging. One thousand and nine hundred new words on the page. I celebrated my minor victory with a jaunt down Sycamore Trail before the rain moved in.” Gil tossed a slice onto his plate and sat. “Along the way, I mentally revised what I had written. By the time my alarm sounded to start dinner, I had whittled my progress down to a mere three hundred and seven words.”
“Hey, that’s great! Step by step, right? That’s three hundred and seven more words than yesterday.”
“I believe we may need to revise that phrase to ‘inch by inch’ but yes, it is progress.”
“Why do you seem hesitant to celebrate this?” Zoe rolled the pizza cutter through the pie and slid a steaming slice onto her plate.
“I have been pondering topics for season two.”
Zoe frowned. Not this again. “I am under specific instructions from Past Gil to remind you that you need to finish your manuscript before writing anything for season two of the podcast.”
Gil grinned. “Yes, my arch-nemesis, Past Gil. What a deplorable,” he said. He joined her at the table and stared at his pizza. “What a deplorable.”
“Want to hear what present Zoe thinks?”
“Al
ways.”
Zoe blew on her pizza to cool it down. “She believes you should work on whatever you need to. But she also believes that if you need more time on the manuscript, you should give your editor a heads up. You know?”
Gil nodded and took a bite. He shot his mouth open and steam escaped. He waved at his mouth with his hand to waft cool air his way. Zoe chuckled at the scene and took a big bite of her own.
“Men are such babies with temperatures,” she said.
“I hate to think that my entire gender is being brought down by my inadequate abilities to handle the heat. Perhaps we could do some research.”
“Yeah, you definitely have room on your plate for that. It can go right between your podcast and your manuscript.”
“Curious minds, Zoe. Anyhow, more desk duty? I recall Joanne was returning from vacation soon.”
Zoe shrugged. “No clue. Maybe tomorrow. But hopefully, with the time that I committed there this week, I will be exempt for the next month and a half.” She tucked a stray strand of blond hair behind her ear. “Hell, I’d take a shift cleaning bathrooms with the maintenance crew before I’d go back to that rickety old chair.”
“You can start with ours,” Gil said with a grin.
Zoe finished her first slice and reached for another. “This is delicious as always, dear. Did you use basil from the garden too?”
Gil nodded and mumbled something inaudible.
“We did have one minor event that may interest you though,” Zoe said. “But I’ll only share it if you promise not to make a big fuss.”
“Lay it on me, Ranger Watts.”
“Two kids reported another sighting.”
Gil dropped his pizza to his plate and stared at her. “And you did not lead with this the second you walked in?”
“I didn’t want—” Before Zoe could finish, Gil had sprinted out of the kitchen. Seconds later, he returned. He was out of breath and carried a cork-board with papers that hung off of it in scattered directions. An Umstead State Park map was pinned to the surface. A handful of red and yellow pins dotted the vast acres of the park.
Trouble Afoot (Shepard & Kelly Mysteries Book 2) Page 3