Dangerous Curves Boxed Set 1: 3 Cozy Christian Mysteries

by K L Montgomery

  Molly clicked on his about page. No schools or work info was listed. “His profile is strange.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “He has never posted anything on his own. Nothing at all. It’s all him tagged in pictures and other things. Like Melody tagged him in some photos. Look, here’s one of her and her boyfriend, must be Bob Summer’s son.”

  I studied the photo, and sure enough, he looked like a younger version of the man I’d surveilled at the marina—only Dan had hair.

  Molly’s brows creased. “Why have a profile if you’re not going to post anything?”

  “Maybe he just doesn’t do social media?” I posited. “A lot of people don’t like it, you know.”

  “But why have the profile at all?” She was clearly flummoxed.

  “No clue.” I watched her scroll through some more posts. She went all the way to when he first joined the site, which was nearly fifteen years ago. It did seem weird that he’d joined so long ago only to not ever post. But maybe he deleted the posts he made in the past?

  “Look, here’s one…” She pointed at the screen. “Congratulations to my son Dylan on his wonderful achievements! We’re so proud of you!” Molly clicked on the profile that originated the post, and it was someone named Joanne Myers Ferguson. She was a wispy woman in her fifties with soft tendrils of thin platinum blonde hair framing an angular face with high cheekbones and dark eyes.

  “That’s gotta be his mom.” Scrolling further down her page, we saw she’d been tagged in a couple of Melody’s posts too. Yep, Melody looked just like her. Joanne was their mother. She lived in Michigan with her husband, Ethan Ferguson.

  “I think there’s definitely something going on with him,” Molly shared as she hit the back button to return to Dylan’s profile. “No work history. No real posts, just photos of him at parties and weddings. What does he actually do? Who does he actually know? All of his friends are hidden. I can’t see anyone except our mutual friends.”

  “Well, who are the mutuals?”

  “Mostly people we grew up with,” Molly said. “Those are all people who went to Bryce Beach Middle School.”

  I studied the seven friends he had in common with Molly. “Do you keep in touch with any of these people?”

  “Meredith Luther comes in with her kids for story time,” she shared. “Wayne Porter works at the bank. And Seth Black lives in Moon Point now. He’s a cop.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “A cop in Moon Point, huh? That could come in handy.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “If you think I’m dragging anyone else into this, you’re nuts.”

  Well, I’d made up my mind. “I think I need to go back down to the lighthouse and do a stakeout.”

  “Stakeout?” Molly’s nostrils flared.

  “Yeah, see who is picking up the crab traps. You know the Boxburys are just the middlemen. We don’t know where the drugs are coming from or who is taking them out of the water. The Coast Guard said they’re using the water to bypass the highway farther inland. It used to be a major corridor for drug trafficking until the state police started heavily patrolling and making a lot of drug busts. I’d always heard there was a huge speed trap around the capital, but now I know why—they were looking for drugs.”

  “And found them, apparently.”

  I nodded. “Is Seth a city cop or state?”

  “State, see?”

  Surprisingly, there was a photo of him in uniform and posed with his wife and two little boys. Adorable picture, but I was surprised he put it out there publicly like that. “Huh, wonder if he ever patrols over toward the highway?”

  “Don’t even think about it!” Molly wagged her finger at me.

  “Fine, fine.” I was still thinking about my stakeout, anyway. One plan at a time.

  “Hey, instead of sitting down at the park all night waiting for them to come take the crab traps, why don’t we just put up a camera and video it?” Molly suggested.

  “That’s a great idea. But I don’t have any equipment.” It had been a while since I’d lamented my lack of spy gadgets. If I was really going to do this detective thing, I needed to get some toys to play with.

  “My brother-in-law has all kinds of stuff like that. He works for a security company.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” I snapped my fingers. “They did the install here at the library after the Bryce Beach Bandit, didn’t they?”

  “They sure did.” Molly tapped her index finger on her chin, as she had a habit of doing. “Let me call him and see what he’s doing tonight. Maybe we could meet over there just before the park closes when there aren’t too many people around. He could mount a camera right near the boat ramp. Isn’t there a light pole there?”

  “Indeed!” I clasped my hands together, my enthusiasm for this case reinvigorated. “Let me know what he says.”

  I had my feet propped up on my ottoman and was bingeing some baking show on Netflix—hey, if I can’t bake worth a darn, I might as well enjoy those who can—when I got a text from Molly.

  Molly: It’s all set up.

  Me: Really? That seems fast.

  Her brother-in-law, Ryan, offered to go down to Lighthouse Park to install the camera himself. It transmitted a feed so I could watch it online. It was nice that he’d helped out, of course, but there was a part of me that wanted to go down there tonight in person and see some action. Something to get my heart pumping. Instead, Paige was curled up on one side of me, and Bond was on the other. I was sandwiched by cats.

  Molly: It doesn’t take long. I’m going to send you a link to the feed. Try not to stay up all night watching.

  Me: Okay, Mom.

  She texted back a tongue-sticking-out emoji. And the link, of course.

  I sent the link to my laptop and opened the full-screen view of the video feed. There was a halo of sorts around the camera, presumably from the light on the pole above it, but the view of the water was perfect. I would definitely be able to see any boats that came and went from the boat ramp, and if any went over to the rocks where the crab traps were. If I was lucky, I might be able to catch the bad guys lifting the traps out of the water. The camera was mounted nice and high, so I could see the whole parking lot too.

  The camera continued to capture the gently rolling waves and the moon rising higher above the water as my attention wandered back to the baking show. I wasn’t sure when it happened, but I eventually drifted off.

  My eyes popped open, and a gasp slipped out between my dry lips some time later. Fumbling for my phone, I disturbed one cat, who bounded across my chest, using it as a springboard to sail to the floor. Thanks, Bond. Ouch!

  After swiping my code to unlock my phone, I saw it was nearing two AM. My laptop was still open on the sofa next to me, and mid-yawn, I caught movement on the camera feed. It was two people walking across the parking lot. They didn’t appear to have a boat, so they probably had nothing to do with the crab traps. Disappointed, I started to close the laptop so I could head to bed and finish out the night.

  I watched them for another minute, just in case. My mom always said nothing good happened after midnight, so for all I knew, they were up to something that warranted my attention. They were carrying large backpacks and were wearing all black. I suspected they were campers who went down to the lighthouse for a midnight dip and were now returning to their tents at the campground. The shorter of the two figures seemed to be dragging one foot a little bit, so they’d probably been drinking.

  Drunk campers. That’s what my live video feed picked up.

  Expelling a resigned sigh, I closed down my laptop and headed to bed.

  “Did you see anything on the camera last night?” Molly asked as soon as she set her stuff down on her desk. I was already at mine, trying to get ready for a meeting with Evangeline. Today was my annual performance review. It seemed weird to think that my friend would be doing it this year and not our former library director, who didn’t believe in giving the highest rating to anyone. I could have be
en the librarian equivalent of Albert Einstein, and she would have been like, “That’s a four, very good. Excellence requires an endorsement from God himself.”

  “Nope. Just a couple drunk campers walking back to their tents, pregaming for July 4th, probably. And my guess? They went skinny dipping down by the lighthouse.”

  Molly laughed. “Why, were they naked?”

  “No, they were wearing all black, but they had on backpacks. How much do you bet they stashed their clothes in there and then got in the water buck naked?”

  “What exactly is ‘buck naked,’ anyway? Is that somehow more naked than just regular naked?” Molly quirked an eyebrow as if she were truly contemplating that expression.

  “Maybe last night wasn’t a pick-up, who knows? I will have to keep watching every night until I catch someone doing something. Do you think they’ll take the holiday off?” I questioned, scratching my chin.

  Jada came from behind the circulation desk, making her way toward us on stiletto heels and wearing a form-fitting pantsuit that made the most of her svelte curves. “Hello, ladies!”

  “Well, don’t you look classy?” Molly gasped, moving her finger in a circle to direct our friend to twirl around and show off her outfit.

  “I have a dinner to go to with the Boxburys after work,” she revealed.

  “Really? So soon after Mr. Boxbury got released from jail?” I clasped my hand over my mouth as soon as I said it because I was afraid a patron had overheard, but there wasn’t anyone in the library yet, not even the older couple who lived next door and were always the first patrons in the building.

  Jada shot me a nasty look, but then her expression softened, her lips curling up. “Yeah, I am kind of surprised, but it’s kind of a…fundraising thing, I think?”

  “Fundraising?” Molly’s questioning gaze flicked from Jada to me, then back to Jada.

  Jada shrugged. “It’s kind of strange, I think. She just started a crowdfunding page for her husband’s legal defense. Does anyone else think that’s a weird thing for millionaires to do?”

  “Wow…” I was pretty speechless, but then Jada turned her phone toward me, and sure enough, there was a crowdfunding page set up with Help Carlton Boxbury with Legal Fees as the headline. Underneath it said Organized by Amanda Boxbury, and there was a photo, presumably of the couple. Looking closer, I recognized Carlton Boxbury II as Mr. Gray Suit from the marina.

  Molly gasped and grabbed the phone out of Jada’s hand. “Oh my gosh!”

  “What?” Jada’s brows drew together.

  “Oh my gosh,” Molly repeated. “No, it couldn’t be…” She studied the phone for a moment, her eyes marching across the screen over and over again as she took in the text. “This is crazy!”

  “What? What’s crazy?” Now both Jada and I were begging to be clued in.

  “Carlton Boxbury is married to someone I went to school with. Amanda Taylor!” Molly shook her head. “How did I not know that?”

  “Because you don’t keep up with Moon Point gossip?” I theorized, though I knew she kept up with all the area gossip better than I could ever dream of.

  “You went to school with her?” Jada’s jaw dropped. “Wow.”

  “Surely that’s not Carlton’s mother?” Molly shook her head. “She isn’t old enough to be his mom. How old is he, anyway?”

  “I think he’s a couple years younger than me…and I’m twenty-seven.”

  That made Jada about two years younger than I thought she was. Still a pretty good guess. Told you I have a talent for these things.

  “Well, Amanda couldn’t be much older than me, and I’m forty-one. That’s too young to have a, what, twenty-five-year-old? She would have gotten pregnant…” She clasped her hand over her mouth.

  “When she was in high school, I guess,” Jada finished. “I thought she looked awfully young to have a son Carlton’s age, but I also figured she’s rich. She’s probably had some ‘work’ done, you know?” She used air quotes on the word “work”—to mean plastic surgery or Botox, or some other beauty treatments, I assumed.

  “What if she got pregnant that summer?” Molly said to some invisible person behind us.

  “What summer?” Jada and I both repeated in unison.

  Molly was so overcome with emotion and memories that she plopped down in a chair and just stared into space for a few moments, trying to collect her thoughts. “I told Sunshine this story a couple weeks ago, but…I’ll tell it again.”

  I remembered the story, and I suddenly connected it with what Jada told me about Amanda’s limp. I bit my lip to keep from blurting it out, deciding to let Molly share it herself. I remembered how much the memory disturbed her before. Maybe rehashing it once more would empower her. Maybe she would be able to put it behind her now.

  “So we were all at the beach for a bonfire one night. It was right around July 4th, the summer between tenth grade and eleventh. I was almost sixteen. Amanda Taylor was hanging out with Dylan Steyer—the mayor’s son. His parents got divorced when we were younger, and he moved away. I’d had a crush on him, and he was my first kiss. Anyway, Amanda came right up to me when I was trying to talk to Dylan and said the nastiest thing to me: ‘I don’t know what Dylan ever saw in a fat cow like you. You’re so ugly, you must have paid him to kiss you!’”

  “Wow, that’s terrible!” Jada’s face screwed up in a look of disgust. “I knew there was something not right about her.”

  “That’s not all,” Molly continued. “Dylan’s little sister Melody was hanging out with us that night, and she marched right up to Amanda and said something I will never forget: ‘only a truly ugly and miserable person would ever say such hateful things.’ Then she stomped on Amanda’s foot and broke it, broke it bad! We had to call 9-1-1. And from what I understand, she still walks with a limp after that night!”

  Jada’s hand flew to her mouth to cover up her gasp. “She does have a limp! I had no idea that’s how she got it.”

  “So…when is Carlton’s birthday?” I was still doing math in my head. Math had never been my strong suit, so it was going to take me a few minutes to get things right.

  “Um…” Jada sighed like she was trying to remember. “I feel like a good girlfriend should know this.” She pulled out her phone and scrolled through her calendar until she said confidently, “March fifteenth. The Ides of March. Oooh, how Shakespearean!”

  “If he’s twenty-five…” I drummed my fingers on the surface of the desk, checking my math once again. “That means Amanda was either pregnant with him when that happened, or she got pregnant shortly thereafter.”

  “What?!” Molly shrieked. “How did you figure that out?”

  I walked her through my methodology, and she just stood there, dumbfounded. Until: “She was in a cast from then until August. Then I remember one of my mutual friends with Dylan telling me she couldn’t be a cheerleader anymore, but I thought it was because of her foot.” She sighed, conjuring up memories of the past, things she hadn’t thought of in decades.

  I knew exactly how that felt. “I wonder when she met Carlton…”

  “Oh, I see where you’re going with this,” Jada said. “What if Carlton the Third is Dylan Steyer’s son…and not Carlton Junior’s?”

  “Well, it’s possible…”

  Jada glanced down at her phone. “Oh no. I’ve got to get back to Tech Services. I’ve got a meeting with my staff.”

  “And I have my evaluation!” I glanced up at the clock, and I was already five minutes late. Evangeline was going to kill me!

  “You seem very distracted.” Evangeline looked up from my review form, where she’d been going down the list of categories and ratings with me. So far I’d gotten three 5’s and two 4’s. Already better than the previous director. And no endorsement from God needed. Right? I lifted my gaze to the ceiling.

  “Sorry.” I shook my head. “I was running late because Molly, Jada, and I just figured out something very interesting.”

  My boss scoffed, “I ass
ume it has nothing to do with work.”

  “That would be a reasonable assumption.” I buried my face in my palms, then ventured a peek out at her between two fingers. “Please don’t be mad at me. I’m just…”

  “You’re still on the case of the dead fish,” she surmised.

  “You’re so smart.” Flattery gets you everywhere, does it not?

  Evangeline narrowed her dark eyes into slits. “Let’s finish your eval, and then you can dish about what you discovered.”

  I laughed. She was just as interested in the case as I was—and she had really helped out with the info about the marine biology lab she got from her ex-husband. Just wait until she heard what I found out about Melody Steyer and Molly.

  “Okay, so overall, I gave you a five,” she said. “I know, it’s probably too generous, and people will probably think it’s because we’re friends, but you did almost singlehandedly keep the library from losing a main source of its funding for the year.”

  “Ha! I did, didn’t I?” A sly smile crept across my face.

  “You totally did,” she agreed. “Now, tell me what you found out.”

  I caught her up on my Coast Guard adventure and the camera Molly’s brother-in-law placed for me. She’d been so busy preparing a presentation for the library board for her final interview to get the full-time director position that we’d barely spoken this week. Finally, I clued her in about how the Steyers and the Boxburys were connected, including the remote possibility that Carlton Boxbury III could be Dylan Steyer’s son.

  “Stranger things have happened.” She shook her head at the sheer juiciness of this gossip.

  I know I shouldn’t be reveling in juicy gossip, Lord, I quickly prayed. But it’s for the dead fish. And dead whale. And to keep Bryce Beach drug-free. Amen.

  “So what are you going to do now?” Evangeline laced her long, skinny fingers together and settled her gaze on me.