Dead Tide (Blackmoore Sisters Romantic Cozy Mystery Series)

by Dobbs, Leighann

  Luke looked at her grimly as he punched numbers on his phone. “We may be able to catch them, but I’m afraid that won’t solve our problem.”

  “Why not?” Celeste’s brows mashed together, her stomach sinking as she anticipated his response.

  “Because, from what I heard, this is just the recon crew. There’s plenty more coming.”

  Chapter Ten

  Celeste jerked awake, pulling her feet back from the cold, wet pressure that rubbed against them. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes, her heart skipping when she saw her grandmother sitting on the end of her bed. Well, not her flesh and blood grandmother—she’d died years ago—this was the ghost of her grandmother, a white vapor that looked just like the real thing … except for the fact she was mostly transparent.

  This wasn’t the first time grandma’s ghost had visited her, but Celeste still felt a little disturbed when she saw the wispy figure. Belladonna, on the other hand, seemed quite at home with grandma’s ghost and lay on her back, her paws batting at the charms that dangled from the apparitions charm bracelet.

  “Well, good morning sunshine!” Grandma said in her usually cheery voice. Apparently death agreed with her.

  “Morning Nana.” Celeste scuttled herself back in the bed, pulling the sheets up to her neck.

  Grandma went over to the window and the drapes parted themselves to let the morning sun in. She stretched her arms wide, smiling at the view. “It’s a beautiful day today!”

  Celeste squinted at the window, shading her eyes against the beams of sun that brightened the room.

  “Yeah. Sunny,” she managed to say, still a bit put off by the sudden appearance of her grandmother jolting her out of her sleep. Her stomach lurched when she looked at the clock beside her bed. It was eight thirty. She had two yoga classes to teach this morning before she went to the dive shop to rent scuba tanks.

  “I better get up.” She slid her legs out from under the sheet, touching her feet flat on the hard, wood floor.

  Grandma turned from the window, her arms crossed against her chest. “I won’t keep you dear. I just came to tell you to be careful.”

  Celeste’s stomach crunched. Her grandma might be a ghost, but it was nice to know she still cared.

  “Thanks … so you know about all this pirate stuff?”

  “Of course. Being dead does have its advantages.” Grandma waved a hand in the air, the charms on her bracelet tinkling. “But, I’m afraid evil forces are at work against you. You and your sisters will need to use all your skills to fight them.”

  “Skills?” Celeste’s forehead pleated between her brows.

  Grandma nodded. “Yes, you girls are stronger than you know.”

  Celeste glanced at her biceps—they were rather muscular for a girl. Being health conscious, she worked out a lot and had great muscle tone from teaching Yoga at the studio she co-owned.

  Grandma looked at her curiously, then crossed to the bed and sat down beside her. Goosebumps stood up on Celeste’s arm in reaction to the chilly vapor of Grandma’s ghost. “Things aren’t always as they seem, Celeste. You should try not to take them so literally.”

  “Okay,” Celeste said, wondering exactly what that meant.

  Grandma cocked an ear toward the wall, apparently hearing something only ghosts could hear. “Well, I must be going—it’s time for the party.

  “Party?”

  “Yes. We have a lot of them in the afterlife. It’s quite a bit of fun … once you get used to not having a physical body. Anyway, I wanted to come and warn you to be on your guard.”

  “Okay, thanks Grandma.” Celeste felt the urge to give her a hug but wasn’t sure how that would work out. Her arms would probably just pass right through the vapor. Plus she wasn’t sure of the proper etiquette when dealing with ghosts, so she simply stayed seated on the bed.

  “Celeste, keep in mind … what you seek might be right underfoot.” Grandma stamped her foot on the floor. Then she disappeared into a cloud of fading mist, leaving a chill in the room and a slightly damp spot on the bedclothes as the only evidence of her visit.

  ***

  Jolene parked her Dodge Dart across from Reinhardt Skinner’s house, swearing under her breath when the car stalled out before she could turn it off. She had a love-hate relationship with the car. She loved that it was paid for, but hated that it barely ran. But what did she expect? The car was older than she was.

  She wasn’t supposed to be at Skinner’s but her internet search for the mysterious Mateo had come up blank. Since he’d already been to the museum, she figured he might show up here. She’d talked to Skinner’s brother who had said they wouldn’t start to clean out the house for another two days, but he’d promised to take a look tomorrow and see if he could find the Blackmoore notes or poetry book. Which meant no one should be at the house today, and she’d had a feeling it might be smart to come and take a look.

  She wasn’t going to get out, or anything, just sit here and watch. Too bad she didn’t know what Mateo looked like … only that he didn’t have a beard.

  The house was small, a one story ranch with an attached garage. Looking at the house from her vantage point in the car, she could just barely see the side. It didn’t take long for her to notice something seemed a little off. Was the door to the garage open a crack?

  She craned her neck to be sure, her heartbeat picking up speed. She knew she shouldn’t go over, but couldn’t think of a reason why the door would be open. The driveway was empty, so it wouldn’t be any of Skinner’s relatives. Maybe one of them had left it open by mistake. She should at least shut the door, shouldn’t she?

  She crept over to the side of the house. Her instincts told her this might not be a good idea. But it was the middle of the day. What could possibly happen in broad daylight?

  Splintered wood around the latch told her the door wasn’t left open by mistake. Someone had broken in. She found herself wishing she’d finished that gun safety course, gotten her permit and had a nine millimeter in her purse. The safest thing would be to run back to the car and call Jake or the police.

  But she didn’t. Instead she pushed the door fully open and ventured into the garage.

  “Hello?”

  Her voice echoed in the small space which smelled of gasoline and concrete. It was cool in here, and a shiver ran up her spine. No one answered.

  The door to the house was open just an inch. She picked her way toward it.

  When she was halfway there, the door pushed open toward her. Jolene’s heart leapt into her throat as two men came through. They didn’t notice her at first—they were focused on a notebook the first man carried. The second man pointed to something in the book, his huge biceps flexing as he did. The first man bent his head to look closer at the notebook, his long beard almost touching it.

  Jolene froze on the spot, her brain sent messages to her legs to run, but her legs didn’t seem to be receiving them.

  The two men looked up from the book, stopping in their tracks when they saw Jolene standing in the middle of the garage.

  They stared at each other for three long heartbeats before the men sprang into action throwing down the notebook and rushing toward her.

  Jolene’s heart sank as her legs tried to scramble backwards, to escape the grasp of the thigh sized arm that was hurtling toward her. Suddenly she regretted not taking those karate classes that Celeste always tried to push on her.

  “No!” She yelled out the word instinctively holding her hand out in front of her with the palm up facing her attacker. Her mouth opened in surprise when the man was propelled backwards, as if by some unseen force, then slammed against the garage wall.

  “Holy crap,” the other guy said echoing Jolene’s thoughts.

  Jolene didn’t have long to think about how the guy could have possibly been thrown against the wall like that because he had recovered and now both guys were rushing toward her. She turned to run, but her feet slipped on something slick. She felt someone grab her as her
legs went out from under her. Then her head exploded in pain as everything went dark.

  The next thing she knew, she was lying on the damp earth outside the garage and had the distinct impression someone had been grabbing her butt.

  “Are you all right?”

  She looked up into velvety brown eyes that were laced with concern. The world swam into focus and a hint of recognition sparked in her brain.

  Her heart jerked in her chest and she pushed away from the stranger who had been kneeling beside her.

  “You’re the pervert from the museum!” She scrambled to her feet backing away from him.

  “What? I’m not a pervert,” he soothed. “I came to help you.”

  “Help me my ass … I felt you touching my butt!” Jolene dug in her pocket for her cell phone. “I’m calling the police.”

  The stranger’s eyes went wide. “No, don’t.”

  “Yeah, right," Jolene said as she dialed.

  The stranger glanced to the side, then back at Jolene. Their eyes met and she felt mesmerized, her fingers frozen on the keypad of her phone.

  “We will meet again,” he said. Then he slipped around the corner of the house.

  She ran after him, not quite sure if his words were a threat or a promise.

  “Hey, don’t think you can get away with—” But when she rounded the corner he was gone.

  She stood alone in the yard, in total silence. Looking around, she wondered what happened to the big guys from the garage. She glanced at the door—it was shut, the wood damage still evident but the door securely in place. She tried to open it, but it was locked.

  Peering inside, she could see the door leading to the house was closed and there was no evidence of the skirmish in the garage … nor of the notebook she’d seen them carrying.

  Could those men have been the treasure hunting pirates?

  Her palm tingled as she remembered how the man had been thrown against the wall. Feeling an icy chill creep up her spine, she crossed the street to her car, her thoughts turning to the brown eyed man.

  Had he been following her? She was sure it was the same guy she’d seen at the museum. But who was he and why would he be here? Did he have something to do with all this treasure stuff?

  Was he in cahoots with the men in the garage? And if he was, what happened to them? And what was in the notebook she’d seen them with?

  She gave one final glance at Skinner’s house as she got into her car. She stuck the key in the ignition and pumped the gas pedal, praying the old car would start. She couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Chapter Eleven

  Celeste’s bare feet scraped against the rough wood of the dock as she contorted her arm behind her shoulder to zip up her wetsuit. The sea air stung her nostrils and the familiar sound of the ocean rushing over the pebble beach and clutching at the stones to try to drag them back into its depths was like music to her ears. She loved the sea and scuba diving was one of her favorite past times.

  A small motorboat she’d borrowed from a friend bobbed in the water at the end of the dock while Morgan and Buzz, one of Luke’s men, loaded diving gear inside. Luke had insisted they take the brick wall of a bodyguard with them even though Celeste had argued the girls were more than capable of handling themselves.

  “Ready?” Morgan asked as Celeste climbed into the boat.

  “Yep.” Celeste took the seat in the back while Morgan moved to the driver’s seat. Buzz grunted and sat in the bow scanning the open ocean with a pair of binoculars. Celeste was learning that he was a man of few words.

  “So where do you want to dive?” Morgan steered the boat out of the small cove that housed their dock and into the open ocean facing the cliff next to their house. From the ocean, the hole from the blast looked raw and jagged. The grass at the top spilling over the edge, the newly exposed rock was lighter in color—a sharp contrast to the rock on either side that had been exposed to the weather for centuries.

  Celeste squinted at the cliff which rose almost a hundred feet above them. She didn’t see any evidence of the caves or passages. Had they all caved in or been sealed off during the blast?

  “I guess we should start right here.” She indicated the section halfway between where they’d come from and the point of land that marked the entrance to Perkins Cove. “This is the deepest part. I don’t know if one could get a ship up near the point.”

  Morgan cut the motor and dropped anchor. Celeste checked the oxygen tanks one more time, then bent to pick one up.

  “Need some help?” She looked up, surprised to find Buzz at her side.

  “Sure,” she said. He lifted the tank and helped her strap it on, then went back to his watch in the bow.

  Celeste sat on the edge of the boat to put on her flippers while mentally prepared herself for the cold water. The Maine ocean could be shockingly cold even in summer, but now in fall it would be frigid. Her wetsuit would help, of course, but it would still be cold. She double checked her gloves and booties to make sure she had as little skin exposed as possible.

  Morgan knelt down in front of her and grabbed her wrist. “Be careful down there … I have a bad feeling like you might get lost or something.”

  Celeste made a face.

  Morgan put her hand up. “I know you’re a very experienced diver but my gut feeling says you should be careful. Don’t go too deep or anywhere that is too dark.”

  Celeste remembered how Morgan’s gut feelings had saved them from being attacked earlier in the summer. They’d been walking down the street when she’d had one of those feelings and pulled Celeste back from an alley opening. If she hadn’t, Celeste might have walked right into an ambush. Morgan's gut feeling had helped them escape unharmed. Her grandmother had told her to encourage Morgan to trust her gut feelings more, clearly grandma knew something they didn’t. What Morgan had was more than just intuition and Celeste took her words seriously.

  “I’ll be careful. Thanks.” She smiled at her sister then nodded in a signal that she was ready to dive.

  Stuffing the mouthpiece into her mouth, she tumbled backwards into the cold, silent underwater world of the Atlantic Ocean.

  She floated for a few seconds acclimating her body to the chill and getting her bearings. The open ocean was to her left, the cliff to her right. It was rocky here and she had to be careful not to let the motion of the waves slam her against the rocks. She dove down deeper where the movement was calmer.

  The water was clear. She looked from side to side, not really sure what she was looking for. A sunken ship? A treasure chest? She saw a lobster in a sandy patch on the bottom and wondered briefly if she should snag it for supper, deciding against it when she realized she’d feel bad for days knowing she’d had the power of life and death over the poor creature and chosen its death.

  She swam along the edge of the rocks toward the point hearing only the steady sound of her own breathing as she took the stale oxygen into her lungs. Gliding over an outcropping of rocks, she kept her eye mostly on the bottom, looking for anything that didn’t seem natural in the crystal clear water.

  A sense of calm pulsed through her as she swam about twenty feet below the surface. She loved the peaceful feeling of being underwater. The quiet. The graceful movement of the fish, seaweed and other sea creatures.

  Something wrapped around her ankle. She jerked her foot away, but whatever it was held on.

  Probably a long strip of seaweed, she thought as she turned to untangle it from her foot. She felt a tug on her heart as she saw a shadowy figure, its arm outstretched toward her ankle. She kicked out with her free foot, pulling the other one back as forcefully as she could but that only caused the grip to tighten.

  Panic seized her chest. Bubbles cascaded out of her mouth as the figure seemed to materialize before her eyes. A bearded man. One of the treasure hunting pirates? Celeste’s mind whirled as she kicked harder, furiously trying to get away.

  The man was shaking his head, waving his arm. With a jolt, Celeste rea
lized he didn’t have any scuba gear on.

  How could he possibly be under water without gear?

  She stopped struggling long enough to notice that he seemed like he was trying to tell her something. She watched as his body shimmered in the water, almost transparent. He seemed to be pointing to the ocean floor below.

  She looked down, her eye catching the sparkle of something round. The pressure around her ankle eased and she dived down reaching out for the gold object. A coin. She turned it over in her hand recognizing the cross design as being the same as the old Spanish coin they had dug up in their yard earlier in the summer. What had Cal said it was? An Escudo or something like that. Very old and very valuable. She put it in her dive pouch.

  The bearded man swam in front of her. Beckoning for her to follow. She was reluctant, but curiosity took over. She swam after him, noting his odd outfit—a white billowing shirt, tan pants that were torn on the bottoms. The impossibility of him being underwater without a scuba outfit or oxygen tank hit her like a face full of ice water.

  He was a ghost.

  He didn’t seem to be a threat so she followed. His movements were more like gliding than swimming. He never kicked or moved his arms as he pushed forward, his long hair floating behind him. Celeste felt a seed of doubt in her stomach when she realized he was moving toward the point where the entrance to the cove was. Surely this water was too shallow for a shipwreck?

  He stopped about fifty feet short of the point, looking back to make sure she was still there. He smiled and then turned west, heading straight into the cliff. Celeste cringed as she imagined him crashing into the jagged rocks of the cliff. Do ghosts feel pain? Maybe he would just pass right through the rock like those cartoons of Casper the Friendly Ghost she used to watch when she was a kid.

  But he didn’t crash or pass through. He was standing on something, motioning for her to come closer. Her chest tightened when she realized he was standing in the mouth of a big cave.