As I walked up the steps to my cottage, I noticed there was something stuck in my door, a note of some sort. I immediately flashed back to the weekend after I’d solved the Bryce Beach Bandit case and found a small white envelope on the welcome mat when I got back from church that morning. The note said I had an admirer who was proud of the way I’d handled the case. I figured it was some sort of sick joke, so I’d stuffed the whole thing in a drawer and forgotten all about it until just now.
I reached down, grasped the note, which appeared to be a piece of white 8x11 paper folded in thirds. I expected it to be more of the same nonsense.
Instead, I was greeted with this lovely sentiment:
Sunshine Baker:
Don’t forget you are a librarian, not a detective. Keep your eyes on your books and stay out of our business. We know where you live, and we’re watching you.
We could use some more bait for our crab traps. And we bet you taste just like chicken—which they love.
A cold chill ricocheted off my spine as I dropped the note out of sheer panic. My fingers trembling, I attempted to jab my key into my lock, finding no success until my third or fourth attempt.
Oh, Lord, I prayed, more fervently than any other prayer I’d sent up in the past few weeks, what kind of mess have I gotten myself into now?
Fourteen
I wasn’t expecting my phone to be ringing off the hook at eight in the morning, but I was also expecting to get more than three hours of disjointed sleep. I shouldn’t have had such high expectations after receiving that bone-chilling note in my door after my adventures last night.
Drat, missed the phone call, I thought as I scanned the room, wondering if the place was somehow bugged, or if there was a peeping Tom outside my window. That made me think of my colleague, Tom, who’d given me a big break in the case. I was just going to imagine that Tom was watching me. It was disturbing and a little creepy, but Tom couldn’t hurt a fly, so it seemed a lot safer than thinking it might be some drug cartel dude.
Voicemails were one of the most evil inventions ever, and I hated them with every fiber of my being, but I supposed, under the circumstances, I should listen to the one I just received. Fiddling with my phone, I somehow managed to enter the necessary code to play my new voicemail, only to realize I hadn’t put it on speaker, nor had I turned the volume up, so I sat there for a full thirty seconds wondering why nothing was playing.
It was going to be a very long, very Mondayish day.
After turning on the speaker, turning up my volume, and replaying the voicemail, the deep voice of Chief James boomed throughout the room.
“Ms. Baker, we need to speak at your earliest convenience. I’ve already been in touch with the Coast Guard police and the state police, and you have some explaining to do.”
“I did all my explaining already!” I said out loud to the empty room and recorded message.
“I advise you to call my secretary at 555-1278 to make an appointment to see me TODAY.” The word “today” was even firmer than his other words, which were already pretty darn firm. Like they were lined with steel or something.
Nothing like getting called to the police chief’s office first thing on a Monday morning. I grabbed my robe and a towel and dawdled off to the bathroom. Thankfully my coffee would be brewed before my shower was finished. There was no way I was getting through this day without a healthy dose of caffeine. Actually, an unhealthy dose was probably more along the lines of what I required.
After texting Evangeline to let her know I’d be late to work and vaguely why, I pulled into my favorite parking spot at the police station. The fact that I had a favorite spot here was a bit disconcerting, but here we were.
Entering the gratuitously gray building—both exterior and interior—I sucked in a fortifying breath. I needed plenty of oxygen to go along with my caffeine. Couldn’t wait to hear what the chief had to say about my late-night shenanigans in the cove.
“Well, Baker, you’ve really done it now.” We’d gone from Sunshine, to Ms. Baker to just Baker. This didn’t bode well for me. He gestured to the chair on the other side of his desk, and when I hesitated, he growled, “Sit.”
“What? I was only trying to help out!” I folded my hands in my lap like the innocent angel I was and lifted my eyes to meet his. Those dark brown, all-seeing orbs were full of rage, and it all seemed to be directed right at little old me.
Should I tell him about the note stuffed in my door? The question bobbed around in my head, never quite reaching my tongue.
“Well, I don’t know how you did it, but the Coast Guard has been trying to get to the bottom of this for several weeks now, ever since they suspected a boat of dumping its supply in the water. There just wasn’t any way to prove it.”
“The necropsies on the dead fish and whale were covered up, you know,” I told him. “The mayor’s daughter—”
Chief James held up one long, brown finger with a perfectly manicured nail. “Now it’s out of your hands, Sunshine. On behalf of the entire law enforcement community, we appreciate your help, but, truly, this needs to stop. You’re putting yourself in grave danger, and you don’t have the kind of resources, training, or manpower that we have.”
He called me Sunshine, which was about the only thing I got out of that little diatribe.
Awww.
“I’ll be careful, Chief.” Or should I say “Vin”? “Don’t you worry about me.”
He massaged his temples with his broad hands. “I just don’t want to arrive at a house to see you being held at gunpoint, that’s all.”
So, my first case had a rocky ending. I lived to tell about it! I was sure this case would be the same. Though, I never thought I was in danger then until I was on the business end of that gun. Now…now I did feel a little quiver of trepidation, but I was starting to thrive on that sensation. And I was bound and determined to figure this puzzle out.
Jada was waiting for me at my desk when I arrived at the library. Crudola. I had forgotten about what happened with her boyfriend’s father the night before. Maybe the police had just asked him some questions and released him. There may have been drugs smuggled aboard his boat, but that didn’t mean he knew anything about it, right?
“What happened last night?” She looked pretty salty, hands on her hips and head cocked, the whole nine yards.
“I’m so sorry, Jada, I—”
“You promised me you weren’t trying to get Carlton into trouble!”
I didn’t remember promising her that when I told her I was looking into the dead fish, but I wasn’t going to argue with her and create a huge scene in the library. Jada was the Director of Technical Services, so she was used to being behind the scenes, not dealing directly with patrons. I was here, at my desk, a public services librarian, knowing everything we said would be overheard by someone.
I put a finger to my lips, and that only made her seethe. “Look, we can’t talk here, okay? Do you want to go grab some coffee? I don’t have any programs till this afternoon.” And Lord knows there aren’t going to be any teenagers in the library until much later in the day.
She huffed, “Fine.”
I shot Molly a look that said, “Help!” And she shrugged. She did have a program this morning, so there wasn’t a lot she could do except pray for me. That was definitely appreciated—and desperately needed at this juncture!
We made it outside into the humid June morning. The skies were thick and gray, layered with clouds that looked heavy with rain. Hopefully we weren’t going to get caught in a downpour if we walked a few blocks to get coffee. But knowing my luck, it was a distinct possibility.
“Hi, Jennie! My usual please, and whatever this lovely lady would like.” I turned to Jada so she could give my favorite barista her order.
She got a latte, and we stood there while Jennie worked her magic. She was fast, and we had our coffees in no time. I led Jada through the tiny café over to the windows that overlooked the back patio area.
“
Okay, listen, I’m really sorry that Carlton got caught up in this,” I said. “I had no idea the Coast Guard was going to show up when we went to investigate last night. I’d shown the pictures I took on the boat to Tom, and he said the metal boxes in the crab traps looked suspicious. Apparently they’re being used to smuggle drugs. That doesn’t mean Carlton knew about them…or his father, for that matter.”
She pursed her lips as she listened to me. “Well, his dad is already out on bail. But his lawyer is fuming that he’s gotten caught up in this. Now the Coast Guard, DEA and FBI are all up in his business…”
“I’m sorry, Jada. I really didn’t mean to cause problems, but I did want to know what happened to those fish. The Coast Guard guys told me they suspected a boat dumped their shipment of narcotics overboard right before they were about to be boarded…and that’s what killed the fish. So I knew there was an issue, and the coverups at the lab and the DNR were both suspicious. I wanted to get to the bottom of it—for the fish, and for our town.”
She let out a long sigh of resignation. “I know it’s not your fault. But I really don’t think Carlton’s dad had any idea this was happening!”
“That may be, and if he’s innocent, I hope he is exonerated quickly. And I also hope they can figure out where the drugs are coming from and going to. It sounded like they weren’t really sure about the supply chain, only that they’re getting moved from our marina through our cove.”
“I know the Boxburys are rich already—I don’t know why they’d have to resort to drug trafficking to make money,” she said. “I just think it’s so weird. His family seems so nice and normal. His mom was a little standoffish, but, like I said, I’m afraid she thought I was making fun of her limp.”
“Can you do me a huge favor?” I looked at her with the puppy dog eye trick I learned from Molly, who learned it from Murphy.
Her honey-brown eyes widened. “What’s that?”
“Can you just keep your eyes and ears open when you’re around Carlton and his family?”
She groaned. “Isn’t this out of your hands now? Sounds like your work here is done, right?”
“No…we still don’t know the connection. Who’s taking the drugs out of the crab traps? Where are they taking them? Who is behind all of it? How are they getting into the traps in the first place, especially if it’s without the Boxburys’ knowledge?”
She leaned in close and put one hand on my shoulder. “I’ll try, but, Sunshine…I think you need to be careful.”
“I’m trying…” The note I’d received in my door flashed into my memory, sending another chill down my spine, just like when I first made the discovery. “I hate the idea of this going on in our town, and no one is able to figure it out!”
“That’s what the Coast Guard, and I guess now the FBI and DEA, are trying to do, isn’t it?” She patted my hand. “Let them do their jobs, Sunshine.”
She sounded like Chief James.
“I’m trying, okay?”
Now that I’d started this investigation, I didn’t know if I could stop. The danger was almost intoxicating! I’d never been in real danger before. Not until the Bryce Beach Bandit pointed a gun at my head. And it was such an adrenaline rush, I’d been craving more of the same ever since.
What were the chances that a woman who had been a librarian almost her entire life would suddenly discover she’s an adrenaline junkie?
“You’re coming to the church picnic on Sunday, aren’t you?” My mother set three plates around the table. Apparently it was just me and the parental units tonight. River and Izzy must have had other plans. Or maybe River wasn’t talking to me after what happened with his boat. Hey, he got it back in one piece!
“Uh…I guess so?”
My father came in from the garage with a case of soda, set it on the counter and started to load up the fridge with the cans. “Pastor Bethany has been asking about you. I think you should come!”
“What?” I didn’t mean for my face to morph into a look of disgust, but I was pretty sure that was exactly what happened. “Why?”
“He’s a nice man,” my mother added.
So that was the theme of tonight’s dinner: convince Sunshine to go out with the new minister. Sigh. Now I understood why my brother and his family weren’t here.
“He is a nice man,” I agreed. “But I think Molly has a crush on him. I don’t want to step on her toes.” There, would that work?
“Oh, Sunny Bunny,” my dad sighed. “We just want you to be happy.”
“I am happy!” I insisted. I was living on the edge—for the first time in my life—and I was happier than I’d been in, well, forever.
“After that Coast Guard fiasco, I worry about you now more than ever.” After getting that off her chest, my mother turned toward the oven, opened it, and pulled out a glass dish that looked like lasagna. Yum.
“Well, that’s over now,” I told her. Not a total lie—the Coast Guard Fiasco was technically over. My involvement with this case? Not so much. If I told her about the note I received, it’d probably spawn an instant heart attack.
“I know I asked you to look into this whole thing,” she continued as she set the steaming pan on a hot pad in the center of the table. My dad moved the tray of garlic bread from on top of the stove to the oven and set a timer. “But I think you’ve done your part now. You figured out there’s drug trafficking going on in our cove. That’s wonderful. You helped the authorities with their investigation, but you’re done now, right?”
“Uh…”
I couldn’t lie to my parents. Even when I was a teenager and was practically contractually obligated to tell a big whopper from time to time, it was a real challenge to deceive them in any way. I just wasn’t a good liar—not to the people who raised me and instilled the fear of God into me. I’d grown up with the constant threat, “We brought you into this world, and we can take you out!”
“Sunshine,” my father rumbled as he joined us at the table. “We don’t want you to get hurt. You’re not trained for this type of work.”
My mother had taken the salad tongs and was tossing the Caesar dressing in the salad so violently, I was surprised I wasn’t being assaulted by croutons at the moment. “You really don’t care if I sleep at night, do you?”
“Would you at least let me buy you a gun?” my father offered. “I’ll teach you how to shoot. There’s a range in Moon Point…”
“Phillip! Guns are not the answer to everything!” my mother screeched. “If your twenty-year-old self heard your sixty-five-year-old self telling your daughter she needed a gun, you’d—”
“I’d what?” my father bellowed.
Gun rights were one of their most contentious topics to debate. When they met, they were hippies back in the late sixties when they were both in high school. My father slowly gravitated to the other end of the spectrum while my mother stayed on the hippie end. How they’d been married for forty-plus years was nothing short of a miracle.
“I’m not getting a gun,” I attempted to end their debate. “With my luck, I’d end up shooting myself!” And that was God’s honest truth.
“Can you promise me you’re done with drugs now?” my mother begged. “Oh, that came out wrong… You know what I mean!”
I couldn’t make that promise. “Mom, I’m really close to putting this puzzle together. I already know the Boxburys are involved—he met with Bob Summer at the marina, and I have them on video. Bob Summer is going to be arrested soon, I bet. Carlton Boxbury II is out on bond. Now we just need to know where the drugs are coming from and where they’re going to. Someone else is involved. And I have a feeling it’s…”
No, I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell them where my suspicions were leading me.
My mother’s face fell as she locked her eyes on me. My father rubbed his temples, then settled his gaze on me as well.
“Who do you think it is?” my father finally asked.
I didn’t want to blurt it out, but my mouth made the decision b
efore my brain could stop it: “Mayor Steyer…and/or his son.”
Fifteen
It was after hours at the library, and Molly and I had volunteered to stay to print out the monthly newsletter—the one with Camille Steyer’s interview in it—and get them ready to mail. Evangeline promised we could have Friday afternoon off if we did her this favor tonight. We had just put the last one in the plastic bin, and they were ready to drop off at the post office in the morning.
“So, now that we know that the Boxburys and Bob Summer are definitely involved here…how can we figure out how the drugs are getting to Boxbury Seafood and who is taking them out of the crab traps?” I wondered out loud as I paced behind Molly’s desk.
Molly didn’t answer, so I stopped pacing right behind her, my eyes flicking to her computer screen. “What the Helvetica are you doing?”
She slowly turned toward me, a sheepish look on her face. “Uh…surfing the internet?”
“By surfing the internet, do you mean stalking Dylan Steyer?” I scanned the social media page she’d brought up, filled with pictures of him posed with his mom and whom I assumed was his stepdad.
“He accepted my friend request.” She fanned herself as though she were about to melt into a pile of goo right there at her desk if she continued to ogle him.
“Well, good for you…” I leaned in to look at a photo of him apparently taken at a wedding. He had his arm around the groom, who was standing next to the bride. “Wow, that’s one heck of a ring he’s wearing.” I pointed at the shiny gold ring.
“He doesn’t seem like a jewelry kind of guy, does he?” She shrugged as she studied it for a moment. “It has some sort of writing on it, but I can’t read it. It’s too pixelated.”
“Did you learn anything interesting about him? Where did he go to school? What kind of work has he done?” He was still very much on my suspect list—he met with Bob Summer, who had a connection to his father. They’d said something about “the fishing being mighty fine this summer.” That was extremely suspicious.
Dangerous Curves Boxed Set 1: 3 Cozy Christian Mysteries Page 29