Dangerous Curves Boxed Set 1: 3 Cozy Christian Mysteries

by K L Montgomery

  His eyes lit up, his face glowing as I approached his desk. He flipped his long gray ponytail over his shoulder and sucked in a breath like he knew he was going to need it to support his impending verbosity. “Hey, Sunshine, how’s it going?”

  “Hey, Tom, I have a question for you.” My phone was in my hand, ready to show him the photos I’d snapped aboard The Mary Sue yesterday.

  He rubbed his hands together. “Oh, you always ask the best questions.”

  I laughed, knowing he would really enjoy answering this one, and he was bound to get all nostalgic on me, probably dredging up childhood memories of accompanying his father out on his fishing boat. Hence another reason I needed the rescue signal with Molly, who was watching me from her desk across the library.

  “I took some photos yesterday on a fishing boat. Some of them are of crab traps, and I honestly have no idea what I’m looking at. Could you tell me how they work?” I swiped in the code for my phone, touched the screen to get to my photo album, scrolled past the photos I’d taken of Paige and Bond being incredibly cute (and getting along for once), and set the phone on his desk for him to take a gander.

  “Oh, a seafaring question!” he exclaimed in his Minnesotan accent. “My favorite.” His gaze lifted to the wide windows overlooking the courtyard as a sentimental smile swept across his face. “Brings back so many memories, don’tcha know…”

  Yeah, that was what I was afraid of. Come on, Lord, grant me some patience, please.

  After a little head shake to chase away the memories, he lifted the phone and began looking through the photos I’d captured, his brows drawing closer and closer together with each swipe. Finally, a little grunted, “Hmmph,” tumbled out before he looked up at me.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Where did you get these photos?” he questioned, a hint of accusation coloring his words.

  “I took them on a commercial boat yesterday.” I shrugged. “Why? What’s wrong with them?”

  “A few of those crab traps are unusual. Never seen anything like them, and to be honest, I don’t even think they’d work to catch crabs.” He scratched his head and began to scroll through the photos again.

  “Why not?”

  He turned the phone toward me. “You see this middle part here?”

  “Yeah?”

  He pointed, leaving a nice big, greasy fingerprint on my phone. “It’s supposed to be where the bait goes. But there’s a metal box there instead.”

  “And there’s not bait in there?” I questioned, again, having no earthly clue how the things worked.

  He chuckled. “No, crabs can’t open metal boxes.”

  Hmmm. I supposed they couldn’t. The whole no opposable thumb thing. Oh, and no hands. They had claws instead.

  “So why would those traps have metal boxes? Do they catch something else?” I was clearly baffled.

  Tom seemed to be as well. He flipped through a few pictures and stopped at one of the men hoisting up a cage with crabs inside. “See this one?” He pointed to the center of the cage. “The bait’s there, in the middle. See? No metal box.”

  I hadn’t even noticed that before, but he was right.

  Were there drugs in those boxes? That was the first thought that exploded in my head like a firework going off. Did Boxbury Seafood know some of their crab traps had metal boxes where the bait was supposed to be? What if they were in on the drug smuggling?

  “Thanks, Tom. You’ve been a big help!” I gushed, scooping up my phone and tucking it back inside my pocket. Yay for dresses with pockets!

  “What’s going on, Sunshine? Where did you get those photos?” His brows drew together again as his eyes bounced between mine, searching for answers.

  I waved him off. “Oh, it’s nothing. I’m just doing a little research for a book…”

  “A book?” Now his bushy gray brows shot up to his receding hairline.

  I crossed my fingers and put my hand behind my back; that was my signal to Molly. Sure enough, seconds later, my phone began to ring, and I’d made sure to turn the volume up full blast. A few annoyed patrons in the vicinity shot me a murderous glare, and I took that opportunity to scurry back to the YA section while plastering my phone to my ear to take my fake phone call from Molly.

  Moments later, I was back at my desk, but now the case was getting even more interesting…

  Twelve

  “Well, hello, Pastor Bethany,” Molly cooed as she extended her hand for our interim minister to shake. “It’s great to see you.”

  “It’s always wonderful to be in the Lord’s House on the Lord’s Day!” he exclaimed, shifting his eyes from her to me and settling there. “Good morning, Sunshine. How are you today?”

  His grip on my hand was a little too firm and went on a little too long. “I’m doing just fine, thanks.” I wrestled my hand away, still feeling the warmth of his skin as Molly and I made our way into the sanctuary to my family’s pew.

  “Do you think he likes me? Do you think he’d go out with me?” Molly whispered as we took our seats on the wooden bench.

  “Do you think he could convince the church elders to spring for some padding for these pews? My hiney is not a fan of this hard wood…” I ignored her questions.

  “Come on, Sunshine, I’m serious. I really like him!” She sighed, then her eyes darted around, taking in all the other members of the congregation slowly shuffling in and taking their usual places around us. She seemed so distracted—she was always a little flighty, but when her gaze landed on someone behind us, I heard a sharp gasp.

  She laid a hand on my thigh and squeezed it hard enough to leave a bruise. This pale freckled skin also had a habit of bruising easily—lucky me. My mother always said I had the skin of a peach, both in color and delicacy. I supposed that was supposed to be a compliment, but since I could never get a tan…it didn’t seem to be such a great thing.

  “What?” I tried to draw her attention back to me, but she seemed frozen, her nails digging into my tender flesh. So I was forced to whip around and see what the fuss was about.

  Mayor Steyer was coming through the double doors with Camille at his side, and right behind him was a tall, handsome fellow I recognized as his son, Dylan. When I turned back to look at my friend, I could see her eyes were still pinned on the younger Steyer, completely enraptured.

  “I still can’t believe he’s back!” She finally tore her gaze away, glancing down to the church bulletin in her hand, which outlined the hymns we would be singing and the sermon notes, as well as general announcements. But I could tell she was too distracted to actually digest the words.

  “So, I’ve got a burning question for you…” I decided to have a little fun with this. “Pastor Bethany or Dylan Steyer?”

  Her eyes rounded as she lifted them to me. Before answering, I could see her chest moving in and out with rapid breaths. “I…uh…oh, gosh…”

  My best friend was boy crazy at forty-one. I felt like we’d somehow traveled back to middle school. Thankfully, at that moment, my brother, River, and his wife, Izzy, worked their way into the pew, followed by my parents.

  Molly grasped my hand and squeezed before whispering in my ear, “Let me think about it.”

  I laughed. She was actually going to debate the choice. I scooted toward my brother, letting Molly contemplate her decision in solitude. River was just the person I wanted to talk to.

  I didn’t find it necessary to strike up many conversations with my brother. It wasn’t that we didn’t get along, just that we didn’t have a lot in common. He was an accountant, which, on the career excitement spectrum, was even a few rungs lower than librarian. He’d always had a somewhat bland, mild-mannered personality, but he was a bit of a chronic man-splainer. Man-splaining was annoying when any man did it, but with River, it was even more annoying because he was my baby brother. Three years younger, in fact, meaning he hadn’t even hit the Big 4-0 yet.

  “Hey, bro.” I cozied up to him. “How’s it going?”

 
His lips pursed like he instantly knew I was about to ask him for a favor that he wouldn’t want to grant. Okay, so he knows me well—whatever. Can a sister not ask her dear brother for a favor?

  “It’s going. We’re exhausted from another double header yesterday.” He looked over to his wife, who was sporting one heck of a sunburn. Ouch.

  “How did the boys do?” Any interest I showed in matters of an athletic nature were typically feigned, and this was no exception, but it might score me brownie points.

  “Pretty well, they won both games. Drew had a triple, and Jake caught a couple of pop flies.”

  “That’s great!” I just kept looking at him, wondering if he would ask me about my life, but he didn’t. I knew I wasn’t overly exciting, but he could make an effort, you know.

  “Did you want something?” he asked when he noticed I didn’t seem to be turning away.

  “You still have a boat?” I knew he did, but I figured this would be a non-threatening way to broach the topic.

  “Yeah. Why?” There was a lot of skepticism riding on that “why.”

  “I need a favor.” I filled my lungs with a nice big gulp of air.

  “What kind of favor?”

  “Can I borrow your boat?”

  He had this look on his face that smacked of condescension, and I had to send up a quick prayer for patience because I currently wanted to slap that look right off him. In the middle of church, mind you.

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, why?” I desperately tried to avoid sounding perturbed, but I was failing. “For normal reasons that people use boats, that’s why.”

  Well…that was a lie. Again, the means justified the end. Or I hoped they would.

  Izzy leaned in toward me. “You can borrow the boat any time you want, Sunshine. We haven’t used it all season—too busy with baseball. It’s in our pole barn. The key’s on the hook right inside the back door. You’ll have to take the truck so you can pull the trailer.”

  Whoo hoo, Sister-in-Law to the rescue! “Thanks, Iz. I might come get it later this afternoon, okay?”

  River just rolled his eyes. Thankfully the choir had assembled on stage, and the director had his baton poised in mid-air as the pianist plunked out a prelude. I highly doubted my brother was going to argue with his wife during church. So score one for me!

  “So, remind me what we’re doing again?” Molly asked as she climbed into the passenger seat of my brother’s truck. She hoisted Murphy up to sit on her lap.

  “Um, trying to solve a mystery?” Like duh, right?

  It was too dark to see her eye roll, but I knew it was there. I elaborated: “Tom told me those crab traps had metal boxes in them that aren’t supposed to be there, and I think they’re using them to smuggle drugs.”

  “And?”

  “And we’re taking my brother’s boat out to see if we can find them and prove it. Then I can take all the evidence to the police, and, voila, mystery solved.”

  “But it’s Sunday. How do you know they’ll be smuggling on a Sunday?” She really enjoyed giving me a hard time.

  “I don’t. But…it’s worth a shot. We have to go at night though. From what I could tell from being on the boat, they’re planted in the afternoon and picked up at night. Tom also said, most of the time, they put out crab traps very early in the morning, so that’s another clue this operation isn’t legit.”

  When she didn’t say anything, I added, “I’m hoping we get to them before whoever picks them up since it’s just now dark.”

  “This is a really, really bad idea, Sunshine,” my best friend warned me. “I know you’ve had some bad ideas in the past—like trying to bake six dozen cookies for the library bake sale a few years ago—but this one has the potential to be…epically bad.”

  “Thanks for your vote of confidence, Molls.”

  I felt like I was sitting on some sort of throne, looking down at the road as we coasted toward the stop sign. I was driving at approximately three miles per hour because of the boat on the trailer behind me. Used to driving my cute little Mazda CX-3, I now felt like I was driving a tank. I was sure Tom could tell me which one—since, in addition to having random knowledge about crab traps, he was also a WWII weaponry aficionado.

  All I had to do was make it down the road, hang a right, and head a few more blocks down to Lighthouse Park. There was a boat ramp there that led to the cove, and then we’d just have to go a little ways to get to the other side of the lighthouse near the rocks where the crab traps were anchored. Surely I’d be able to find them using the big round bobbers tied to the ropes on top.

  “So what are we going to do if we manage to find drugs?” Molly asked as I gingerly backed down the boat ramp. I was pretty sure we weren’t allowed to be here after dusk, but there was still just a tiny little bit of sunlight streaking the western skies. I could always claim ignorance if we got caught, right?

  “Um, we’re taking it to the police,” I said confidently.

  Yes, I’d already played this scenario in my head a few times now. I’d pull up the crab trap; the metal box would be there. I’d open it up and gasp at the sight of drugs—not that I even knew what drugs looked like, mind you, but I was sure I’d know it if I saw them. Then I’d take them to Chief James and be the heroine all over again. Detective work was a thrill ride that could easily become addictive. I loved the adrenaline rush that came along with it!

  “What if the drug smugglers show up while we’re pulling up their traps?” she questioned.

  She just had to play devil’s advocate, didn’t she?

  “My game plan for if anything goes wrong is just to pretend we’re dumb girls who don’t know what we’re doing. Plus we have a cute dog.” I shrugged and batted my eyelashes, then reached down to pet our trusty canine companion. “Trust me, I already played that game with my brother, and he bought it hook, line, and sinker.”

  “No pun intended, right?”

  “No, I’m too dumb to make puns.” I fluffed my hair out and coquettishly batted my eyelashes again. Like I said, this was a foolproof plan. And I’d also been praying all day that God would help us bring the bad guys to justice. That had to count for something, right? It counted for a lot, as far as I was concerned.

  My mouth snapped shut at that point because I couldn’t talk and concentrate on putting this bad boy in the water at the same time. My brother’s patronizing instructions echoed in my mind as I performed all the steps he drilled into me. From what I could tell in the rearview mirror, I was exactly where I needed to be.

  “Alright, Molls. I need you on the boat. I’ll go park and be right back.”

  “You think I have even a tiny clue what to do?” Horror twisted her features as she stared at me, wide-eyed.

  “Just float in the boat, and I’ll be right there. Murphy will keep you safe.”

  We did all the necessary things from River’s list before I left her in the water while I drove the truck and trailer up to park in the lot. Then I hightailed it back down to the water before Molly could have a panic attack. I probably should have brought Evangeline—it’s dark, so she couldn’t use the sun as an excuse—but I had a feeling she’d say she didn’t do boats—or water—or something.

  I climbed in the boat, and moments later, we were off. I idled out toward the lighthouse, then steered around the rocks that jutted out into the water. They looked much bigger, sharper and scarier in the burgeoning dusk. Driving a boat was not at all like driving a car. My fingers trembled as they gripped the wheel. This time when I whispered “Jesus, take the wheel” under my breath, I meant it literally.

  Hopefully, I would be able to see the buoys I’d been imagining in my head when I was fantasizing about how this would play out. I squinted, trying to get my eyes to adjust to the darkness.

  Then I heard Molly shriek, “There! I see one!” She pointed toward a flat area between two jagged boulders, and I headed closer. I tried to remember what my brother said about anchoring the boat. I patted my life
vest to make sure it was on snugly, then leaned out toward the red and white plastic bobber that indicated where the crab traps were.

  “I got it!” I yelled back to Molly before realizing she was only inches away from me. “Oops, sorry.”

  I began to tug the rope, which was cold, wet, and a little slimy. The smell of fish and decaying seaweed lingered in the air. It was so thick, I could almost taste it, but I tried to pour all my concentration into the arduous task at hand. Once I wrangled the rope a few feet into the boat, Molly picked up the end and helped me pull. Murphy retreated to the bow, obviously skeptical about whatever we crazy hoomans were doing. Good, hopefully he would stay out of our way.

  I had no idea how deep these traps went, and what I didn’t realize was that they were connected, all in a line. Once I started to pull this one up, several bobbers bounced down in our direction. I supposed that was okay—we could check more than one trap. The more evidence, the better, right?

  “It’s coming!” Molly gasped right before a wire cage about two feet square popped out of the water. I noticed it didn’t have the blue and yellow Boxbury tag on it like the ones they pulled up on the boat the other day, the ones with crabs inside.

  A thrill rushed through me when I spotted the metal canister in the middle of the trap. “I got it! I got it!”

  At that exact moment, Murphy fired off a series of sharp, ear-piercing barks. Bright lights flashed all around us, and then a broad, white beam landed right on top of me. It was followed by the deep bellow of a bullhorn, “Raise your hands in the air and keep them where we can see them!”

  Oh no.

  Now I really needed Jesus to take the wheel!

  Thirteen

  I didn’t realize something about being out on the water.

  I didn’t have this issue on The Mary Sue, and I didn’t have it on my brother’s boat. But as soon as I got on the Coast Guard boat, my dinner was history.