And then his cell phone chirped.
Cal jerked back on the couch and dug in his pocket, pulling out the offending gadget and looking at the display.
“Oh, sorry, I have an appointment. I have to go.” He stood up, backing away from the couch … and her. “If you can pick out any more passages which look promising, that would be great. I’ll be back later tonight to help decipher them.”
Then he turned and practically ran out of the room before she could even say good-bye.
Chapter Twenty One
She certainly didn’t need Cal Reed to help her decipher an old journal, Celeste thought, as she leafed through the old book looking for poem shaped passages. Surely she and her sisters could figure out how to lookup the code. It seemed simple enough.
Two hours later, she hadn’t found one other poem-like entry when Fiona and Morgan came home.
“How’s your wrist?” Fiona sat beside her, holding out her hand for Celeste’s cast wrapped wrist.
“It’s pretty good. Actually it doesn’t even hurt at all.” She submitted to Fiona’s tapping and poking. Fiona slid a ruby nailed finger into the gap between the palm of her hand and the cast and pulled the carnelian out.
“So this did the trick, then?”
“I think so. I don’t know if it’s healed but it doesn’t hurt anymore.”
“Oh, it’s probably all healed by now. You should go back to the doctor and have that thing removed.
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I can picture the look on his face when I tell him my sister put a rock in the cast and I’m certain it must have healed my broken wrist.”
Fiona and Morgan laughed.
“Well, maybe you should wait the appropriate amount of time just to save from having to explain,” Morgan suggested.
“So what’s going on? Where’s Cal? I thought he and Jolene were deciphering the journal.” Fiona sat down next to Celeste to look at the items spread on the table.
“They were. But they both had to leave so I figured I might as well give it a go.”
“Did you find anything?” Morgan asked.
“Earlier, when Cal was here, we deciphered this strange poem.” Celeste pointed to the poem he had written down on a piece of paper. “Cal was wondering if the ‘two maps’ part might mean that there was another map and thought the leather map would be a good candidate because hide is another word for leather.”
“So how do you use two maps to get to a treasure?” Fiona asked.
Celeste explained Cal’s theory of one map showing the way through the maze and the other being the directions to where the treasure is buried.
Morgan stood beside the coffee table, frowning down at the poem. “Treacherous maze? That’s ominous. What do you think makes the maze treacherous?”
Celeste shrugged. “Who knows?”
“This is all great and everything,” Fiona said. “But it still doesn’t tell us where the maze is.”
Celeste puffed out her cheeks. “I know. And there’s no other passages that look like poems. We’re going to have to go through the whole book until we hit the part that tells where the maze is.”
Morgan reached down and thumbed the pages. “It’s a pretty big book. What if the part we need isn’t obvious? I’m sure it doesn’t come right out and say ‘the maze with the treasure in it is located twenty degrees east of the opening to the channel’ or anything like that.”
“Well we have to do something," Celeste said. “The low tide is tomorrow night.”
“Right, I’m beginning to think we should just wait for the pirates and then follow them," Fiona suggested.
“Luke said he got the geological map of the area and didn’t see anything that looked like it would be exposed by the low tide,” Morgan said. “But he did say one thing was odd—someone else had requested a geological map of the same exact area.”
“The pirates?”
“Maybe." Morgan shrugged. “And now that Overton is going to give them the map, they’ll know where the maze is and think they know how to navigate it to get to the treasure.”
“So there’s no need for them to come after us.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way I don’t want them taking our treasure … not after everything we’ve been through.”
“Me either," Celeste said. “So we only have two choices … follow them or figure out where it is ourselves.”
“And since we really don’t have much else to do, we might as well work on figuring it out," Fiona said pulling the journal over to her side of the table.
The girls worked on the journal in silence each taking turns reading the words while another person flipped around in the poetry book to decode the word. After several hours, Celeste’s headache was back and they’d only come up with mundane accounts of daily life as a 1700s sailor.
“Hey, where do you think the map of the maze came from anyway?” Morgan looked up from the poetry book. “I mean, I know Mateo put it in Jolene’s pocket but where did he get it from?”
“I assume from Skinner or his office." Fiona shrugged.
“Okay, so then where did Skinner get it from? There’s no drawing of a maze in the journal.”
Fiona pulled the maze drawing in front of her on the table. “Well it’s not an old drawing, so it’s either a copy of an old drawing that someone drew themselves or, maybe the journal describes the map and Skinner drew it according to the instructions.”
“Or Mateo got it through some other source,” Celeste offered.
Morgan pressed her lips together. “Maybe we should be looking in the journal for something that is more like instructions or directions. If Isaiah Blackmoore wrote down instructions on how to draw the map, he probably would have something about where the maze is located near them.”
“Good idea,” Fiona agreed.
Celeste thought it was a good idea too, but her head was pounding and her eyelids grew heavy. She stifled a yawn. “I’m really beat. I might go lay down.”
“You should." Fiona raised concerned eyes at her. “You’re still recovering from that bash on the head. You need a lot of rest.”
“Yeah and you’ll need to be in tip top shape for tomorrow,” Morgan added causing Celeste’s stomach to crunch.
“Right, to fight off pirates and recover treasure,” Celeste said. “Cal said he was coming back, but that was hours ago so I don’t know if he’s going to show or not.”
“Where did he go?”
“He said he had a meeting,” Celeste answered. Probably with Camilla, she thought to herself then felt an uncustomary surge of anger—he couldn’t even hurry back for something this important? The anger was immediately replaced by guilt. It was her own fault he was with Camilla and not with her. Suddenly she felt very weary, she was overtired and needed to go to bed. Maybe tomorrow this wouldn’t bother her so much.
“Okay, well, I’m heading off to bed.” She got up from the sofa and shuffled out of the room.
“Take some Tylenol PM so you get a good rest," Morgan called after her.
Good idea. She veered into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of pills from the drawer. Glancing out the window at the ocean she felt herself shiver. After tomorrow night, things might never be the same.
Chapter Twenty Two
Sheriff Dwight Overton studied the map he’d taken from the Blackmoore residence.
“Those Blackmoore bimbo’s didn’t pick a very good hiding spot,” he said into the empty room, congratulating himself on his cleverness.
He bent over his rickety kitchen table, squinting in the low light from the forty five watt bulb that hung overhead. His small apartment contained only the bare necessities—Noquitt was merely a temporary stop in his grand plan, so he hadn’t bothered to spend any time or money on furnishings. It wouldn’t be long before he was out of here and living in more luxurious accommodations.
The floorboards creaked as he crossed to the kitchen drawer. He pulled it open rummaging inside for a pen that matched the ink on the map exa
ctly. He sat down at the table and set about drawing a replica of the map—almost an exact replica except for a few key changes … like the directions on how to navigate through the maze.
He carefully traced the outline, his tongue sticking out of the side of his mouth, his hand shaking just slightly. He omitted some of the actual dead-ends and put in a few of his own before drawing the path that indicated which way to go to get to the treasure. The path he drew wasn’t the same as the path on the map he had, of course, it was almost the exact opposite.
He finished the final line with a flourish and leaned back in the simple wooden chair he’d picked up for a buck at a yard sale, a smile spreading across his face. He didn’t smile often, but this was cause for celebration—his years of hard work were finally about to pay off.
He folded the map carefully and put it in a plain white envelope inside a paper bag. Later on tonight, he’d drop it off at the designated spot where one of Goldlinger’s lackeys would pick it up. The thought of Goldlinger made his bowels cramp. Overton shuddered to think what the man would do to him if he found out the map was a fake.
But Overton was smart. He’d planned things to the letter. By the time Goldlinger figured out he’d been double-crossed. Overton would be miles away, using a different name. Plus, if he was lucky, the Blackmoore’s and that meddling Luke Hunter would have taken care of most of Goldlinger’s henchmen for him and weakened Goldlinger’s operation so he’d have no resources left to chase Overton.
His smile turned into a smirk as he thought about the lucky break he’d gotten when Goldlinger sent him here to investigate the death of the Blackmoore girl’s mother. To make sure it was ruled a suicide. Goldlinger had pulled a lot of strings to get Overton in place there and he’d known there was more to it than just fixing a death investigation.
It had taken four long years to get to this point. Even though the small town Sheriff’s position was boring and demeaning, there had been some things he’d enjoyed. Like putting the screws to the Blackmoore sisters.
He’d hated the Blackmoore’s on sight and delighted in making them miserable. Serving them with trumped up citations, finagling evidence and paying off judges so he could throw them in jail. In fact, he would have loved to have thrown a couple of them in jail for Skinner’s murder, but he didn’t have the time to rig up the evidence. He had much more important things to focus on now.
Overton folded the real map and put it in his top shirt pocket. He’d keep it close where no one could take it from him. He wanted to know exactly where it was because it was critical he have it on hand tomorrow night when the tide was its lowest.
He turned around and reached out to open the drawer of a small side table he had against the wall. His heartbeat quickened with excitement as he pulled out a piece of paper and spread it out on the table.
The paper was a geographical contour map of Noquitt which showed a specific spot. A spot that Overton was sure Goldlinger didn’t know about. A secret tunnel of sorts that opened just at the channel that led into Perkins Cove. It was covered by water now, but during the lowest tide, he’d be able to gain access.
According to his calculations, he’d be able to start his journey toward the maze about two hours before dead tide. That would give him an hour to get in, grab all the treasure he could and get out before the ebb tide submerged the treasure for another three hundred years.
And all the while, Goldlinger’s men would be wandering around lost in the maze.
Overton laughed out loud as he shoved himself away from the table. Grabbing his sheriff’s hat, he shoved it on his head and started on the way to his mundane job at the police station for the last time ever.
After years of patiently waiting, he was finally going to get exactly what he deserved.
Chapter Twenty Three
Thirteen hours until dead tide.
Celeste had stared at the journal for so long that it felt like an image of the pages would be burned into her retinas. Disappointment pressed on her like a weight—only thirteen hours until dead tide and they still had no idea where the maze was.
She looked out the window at the Atlantic. The first low tide of the day would be in about a half hour, just shortly before noon. But that wouldn’t be the lowest tide of the day. That tide would come tonight. … at almost exactly midnight, the water would be at the very lowest point—dead tide.
Luke and his men were still out on the ocean today watching, even though they all agreed that the pirates would probably make their move at night, under the cover of darkness. They figured the pirates would make their way into the maze—wherever that was—shortly before midnight so they could be in place when dead tide hit. They might only have a short period of time to recover the treasure before the tide started to come back in.
Celeste could feel the tension in her shoulders. Maybe if she could figure out what the significance of low tide was, she could figure out where the maze was. Frustration gnawed at her. She had no idea where to start looking—now would be a good time for her grandmother to appear and give her some sort of clue, but she hadn’t.
“The tide really is a lot lower than I’ve ever seen it.” Jolene had come into the room and was standing next to her at the window, pointing at the rocks that stood out from the ocean.
“Yeah, that rock there is usually only jutting out of the water at the very top. Now you can see a whole crop of rocks below it.”
“But no maze, huh?” Morgan said from the other side of them room. Celeste turned and her stomach grumbled at the tray of grapes, cheese and crackers Morgan had in her hand. Fiona came in with a pitcher of lemonade and they all sat down on the overstuffed chairs being careful not to get the food or drinks near the journal.
Celeste noticed Fiona was wearing a new necklace in place of the malachite one that had exploded. This one was a big blue stone—the aquamarine she and Cal had found in the attic.
Fiona caught her looking and her hand flew up to the stone. “I figured I’d wear it since my other one shattered and … well, it seems appropriate. You guys don’t mind do you?”
“Of course not,” Celeste answered for all of them. “Though with the way the malachite one helped us beat those pirates, maybe you should be wearing another one of those.”
Fiona laughed. “I should have made one for all of us. I did, however, bring that satchel of crystals we found in the attic last summer.”
She pointed to a burlap bag that was laying on the floor. Celeste recognized it as one they had found in the attic during the big treasure hunt in the summer. It had the initials MB on it which they thought might stand for Mariah Blackmoore, the wife of Isaiah Blackmoore.
The sack contained a variety of large crystals. The girls found it interesting that an ancestor apparently had the same affinity for them as Fiona.
“Why did you bring those?” Celeste’s brows mashed together as she opened the flap to look inside.
“Morgan told me to. She had a feeling.” Fiona looked at Morgan. “And we all know we should pay attention to those now.”
Belladonna appeared out of nowhere and eyed the cheese expectantly. Celeste broke off a small piece, offering it to the cat who sniffed it daintily for two full minutes before taking it.
“So what do we do now?” Jolene asked.
“We finish deciphering the book,” Fiona answered.
“Cal was here until dawn and we made it through a lot of the book,” Jolene said, layering a slice of cheese on top of a saltine and crunching into it. “But we didn’t find any clues about the maze, yet.”
“He went home to catch up on some sleep. He’s supposed to be here soon. Until then we can still make progress ourselves.” Morgan popped a grape into her mouth.
Celeste caught herself wondering whose home Cal went to.
“I just feel so useless sitting here. Shouldn’t we be out there doing something.” Jolene gestured toward the window.
“Well Luke’s men are on the ocean looking for the pirates to come by sea. L
uke’s taking the evening shift and will be out there himself tonight,” Morgan said. “And more of Luke’s guys are watching the house along with Jake just in case the pirates come here.”
An icy finger traced Celeste’s spine. It seems odd that pirates hadn’t made a move at them but then again if they have the map, they might think they have everything and not even bother with the girls. Still she couldn’t help but feel it was the calm before the storm.
“So, Luke’s out on the water, Jakes watching the house and we’re supposed to sit here and do what?” The tone in Celeste’s voice showed her frustration.
“Hopefully find the answer to where the maze is,” Jolene said. “Because I don’t know about you, but I’m gonna be pissed if the pirates make off with a treasure that belongs to us!”
“Meow!” Belladonna jumped up onto Jolene’s lap as if to say she agreed.
Celeste rubbed her eyes and pulled the journal over toward her, steeling herself for a long afternoon of deciphering. “Okay, I guess we might as well get started. Which page did you leave off on?”
Chapter Twenty Four
One and a half hours until dead tide.
Dwight Overton silently paddled the wooden dinghy from the dock in Perkins Cove toward the end of the channel. He wore a dark shirt and pants hoping that no one would notice him gliding slowly under the bridge toward the mouth of the cove. Not that anyone was around to see him—it was past ten p.m. and the cove was basically shut down for the night.
The water glittered in the moonlight as it quietly lapped the edges of the cove. The rocks that had been built up to form the sides of the channel revealed how low the tide really was. There was a clear line where the water normally leveled off and now it was a good ten feet below that. Overton knew it would get even lower in the hours to come, but he wanted to get a head start. He’d need some time to locate the entrance. Glancing back in the boat behind him he double checked his supplies one last time. A shovel, buckets and a wheeled dolly—everything he needed.
Dead Tide (Blackmoore Sisters Romantic Cozy Mystery Series) Page 12