Secrets of the Treasure King

by Terry Ambrose

  “Everybody stand down.” Deputy Baker gave Adam a curt nod, which he returned, and then said, “I can escort Mr. Carroll outside if you’d like, Chief.”

  The big man stood more than a head taller than Baker, and Rick could picture him picking Baker up and tossing her aside like he might a can of beer. Then again, she was the one who had his arm pinned behind his back. Of course, what would happen the second she let loose her grip?

  “Take Mr. Carroll in for drunk and disorderly conduct,” Adam said.

  “Respectfully, Chief. Mr. Gray is technically the one who provoked the attack.”

  Adam looked at Joe, who finally seemed to realize he’d not helped the situation. “I got too worked up. Sorry, Adam.”

  “About time somebody in this berg got a little sense,” Carroll said, then yelped when Baker pushed his arm up almost imperceptibly.

  “Do not test my patience, Captain,” she snapped. “You will leave this establishment now or I will lock you up as the Chief instructed. By the time you get before a judge, you’ll have lost all your passengers. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes!” Carroll grimaced at another change in pressure on his arm.

  Ken Grayson worked his way over to where the altercation had taken place. At six-foot-four, Ken was the taller man, but even he looked almost frail compared to Carroll’s presence. “You, Captain Carroll, are not welcome in my restaurant. I called Deputy Baker because I know a troublemaker when I see one and you, sir, are nothing but trouble.” Ken surveyed the scene, then faced Adam. “I don’t see any severe damage. However, as the sign on the door says, we reserve the right to refuse service. I’m refusing to serve this man, Adam, and I do not want him in here again.”

  “Works for me,” Adam said. “Baker, take the captain outside and let him go. But, Captain, if you do anything to cause more trouble in my town on this trip or any future trips, I will make sure you spend time in jail. Get him out of here.”

  With one swift movement, Baker forced Carroll to pivot and walk toward the front door. On her way, she paused and said, “Sorry for the interruption, folks. The show’s over.” Over her shoulder, she added, “Enjoy your dinner, Chief.” With that, she pushed Carroll forward and out the door.

  Ken Grayson brought over a handful of white bar towels. While Marquetta blotted at her blouse and skirt, Ken and the busboy mopped up spilled wine from the table and removed the ruined dinners.

  “Send me the dry cleaning bill, Marquetta,” Ken said as he removed her plate.

  She shook her head. “It’s not your fault. And I don’t even know if the dry cleaner can fix this.”

  Traci reached across the table and laid her hand on Marquetta’s arm. “Are you okay? That was a total shock.”

  “I just need some time to unwind,” Marquetta said. “Rick? Can you take me home?”

  “Sure.” Rick pulled back her chair.

  “Do you want company?” Traci asked. “I can stay with you for a while.”

  “Thanks, Traci, but I’ll be okay. I think I need a little time alone.”

  Rick’s spirits sank. How quickly his plan for the evening had fallen apart. One minute, he’d been planning a proposal, the next he had the wrong person on his lap. This was not his evening.

  They exited the Crooked Mast and walked along Front Street. Pink, red, and charcoal-gray streamers rippled across the sky. Rick watched the array of colors deepen as they walked. Marquetta stayed quiet, but held his arm. When he suggested she take a look at the sunset, she craned her neck to see past him.

  She smiled weakly and tightened her grip. “It’s nice.”

  “That Captain Carroll, he’s a real jerk.”

  “Yes.”

  “Adam certainly seemed pleased by the way Deputy Baker handled him, though.”

  “Pamela’s always been efficient.”

  Rick looked closely at Marquetta. Her words had been so stiff. As though forced. Her grip on his arm had also tightened the second he mentioned the deputy. “So she used to live here?”

  “You’re as bad as Alex.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No. It’s not your fault. I’m just upset by the whole incident.” She swallowed hard. “Pamela grew up here. We went to high school together.”

  “Were you friends?”

  “For a while.”

  “What happened?”

  Marquetta pulled back and wrapped her arms over her chest. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “In some ways, I wonder if Deputy Baker will be too big-city for Seaside Cove,” Rick said.

  They made it to Marquetta’s front door, then stood awkwardly, Rick hoping to get her to open up, she, not saying a word. He took her hand. She looked up at him.

  “Rick, I…”

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “It’s okay. We don’t have to talk.”

  “Thank you.”

  She turned and unlocked her door, then Rick pulled her close. He kissed her softly, then said, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” She turned away and slipped inside.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Alex

  MARCH 26

  Hey Journal,

  I’m still waiting for my dad to come home from his date with Marquetta. I’ve been super busy since they left. Part of the time I helped Mr. West and Mrs. King make dinner arrangements. They both said they wanted something more casual than they could get at a restaurant, so I told them about our local pizza place.

  They called in an order and ate in our dining room. Guess what? They’re still down there playing checkers. I suggested they go watch the sunset, but Mrs. King said she gets cold easy. She also said she’s seen sunsets from all around the world, so she didn’t mind missing one when she was staying in such a comfortable place.

  I also got a text from Sasha. She said her mom warned her to not go near the marina again as long as Captain Carroll’s boat is here. Her mom remembered him from the last time. Now Sasha’s mom is gonna text my dad and Robbie’s dad and tell them to keep us away. Why do parents have to be such worrywarts? Now I’ll never get to talk to the lady crew member.

  You know what? When my dad was a reporter he used to say journalists shouldn’t be kept away from their sources. I agree! And if Daddy says I can’t go near the marina, I’m gonna remind him of what he said. Freedom of the press! Right?

  I’m gonna text Mr. Van Horn and tell him I’ve got a story for the Cove Talkers. I’m not gonna tell him what it’s about unless he asks. He’s kind of an old worrywart, too.

  Alex

  Rats! I sent the text and Mr. Van Horn wanted to know what my subject was. When I told him, he said he’d get back to me. While I wait for him, I decide to make myself some hot chocolate. On my way down the stairs, I hear voices and music. It’s Mr. West and Mrs. King. They’re still at the dining room table. They’ve turned up the lights and Mr. West is playing music on his phone. I wave when they look at me and Mr. King calls me over.

  “Hey. How are you guys?”

  “Saddened that we must leave tomorrow,” Mr. West says.

  “I have a ticket for a cruise that’s leaving in two days. William has volunteered to drive me to San Francisco. When I board, he’ll fly back to Los Angeles.” She looks at Mr. West. Her eyes are kinda sad, like she’ll miss their time together.

  “You should totally go on the cruise, Mr. West. The two of you would have an awesome time. All that free food, the shows.” I point at the board and all the checkers. “Cruise ships always have games, too.”

  Mrs. King looks at me and smiles. “Why, Alex. I’m surprised you know so much about cruises. Have you ever been on one?”

  “Nope. But a lot of our guests talk about it. I think it would be awesome to go sometime.” I look at Mr. West.

  All of a sudden, he realizes Mrs. King is looking at him, too.

  “Dolores? Would you want me to go?”

  Mrs. King gets all flustered. Her cheeks turn pink, but she’s also holding back a smile.


  “She totally wants you to!”

  “Alex,” Mrs. King says like she’s gonna scold me. “You’re putting words in my mouth.” A second later, she looks at Mr. King again. “It would be lovely, but I don’t think you could even get a ticket at this late date.”

  “We have an awesome travel agent in town.”

  Mr. West snickers as he rests his elbow on the table and looks up at me. “Are you always this persistent, young lady?”

  “Totally. My dad always says I need to follow my dreams.”

  “And what is your dream, Alex?” Mrs. King cocks her head to the side. She reminds me of a friendly grandmother I saw in a movie once.

  It doesn’t take me even a second to respond. I know my dream. I’ve known it for a year. “Help my dad be happy again by having him marry Marquetta.”

  “You are quite the little matchmaker, aren’t you?” Mrs. King says.

  “I think she’s got an admirable dream. And if there’s anything we can do to help make it happen during the remainder of our stays, just let us know. Would you agree, Dolores?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Mr. West takes Mrs. King’s hand in his. “I’ll go see the travel agent in the morning. Who knows? Maybe we can make that sailing together. But only if you’d like me to try.”

  Mrs. King looks at me. She’s got a funny little smile on her face. “I think you said it well, Alex.”

  “She’d totally love it!” I say, then my phone pings me. It’s Mr. Van Horn. “I gotta go. I’ll take care of this stuff for you.” I pick up the trash can with the dirty napkins and the empty pizza box and go into the kitchen. I put the trash can on the floor and read Mr. Van Horn’s message.

  —I have a few minutes now. What is this about wanting to do a story about those treasure hunters? I don’t think that’s a viable option. They’re a rather unsavory group.

  —But wouldn’t it be a better story than some boring profile on Mr. Gray’s business?

  —A lot of people in this town love Joe. Don’t underestimate the value of a story about him.

  —A friend of mine told me Captain Carroll was here before. Was he a lot of trouble then?

  —If you must know, he was a great deal of trouble. The mayor threatened to banish him from the town.

  My mouth drops open. Whoa. It would be awesome to have that kind of power. It would be almost as good as waving a magic wand and making people disappear.

  —Can she do that?

  —No. She was angry because two of his passengers heard one of the stories about Joaquin Murrieta’s gold and decided they had better odds finding that than the San Manuel. On their last night in town, they got drunk and stole the mayor’s car. They used an off-road map and drove into the mountains. It took three days to find them. The car was nearly totaled.

  —Did the mayor throw them in jail?

  —Technically, the mayor can’t do that, but she had the police chief handle it for her. They disappeared before their trial. That’s the kind of people Captain Carroll associates with.

  —If the mayor doesn’t want him here, how come he’s back?

  —Because he claims to have a map showing the exact location of the San Manuel. That’s the main reason you need to keep your distance. If there really is a map, these people will do anything to bring up that treasure.

  If Captain Carroll has a real treasure map, then Flynn won’t be the first one to find the San Manuel. That would be a real bummer, and it means Flynn’s gonna need some help. The problem is Sasha’s mom. She’ll tell my dad to keep me away from the docks. Mr. Van Horn will probably tell me the same thing. What’s super bad is that Flynn might not know what Captain Carroll has. And if those treasure hunters are as bad as Mr. Van Horn says, that could be trouble. I don’t want Flynn to get hurt. She’s my friend, and I’d feel terrible if I didn’t help her.

  I could do like my dad did when he worked for the newspaper in New York. I could go undercover and take on the big story. That would be awesome, but I’d need help to do it.

  Sasha would help. And once she’s in, Robbie will help, too. Wow. We could do surveillance. And maybe I could sneak down to the marina and ask questions. I could still talk to the lady crew member! This is gonna be off the charts awesome.

  Now I have to figure out what to tell Mr. Van Horn. I text back that I’ll keep working on the story about Mr. Gray. That’s not a real lie ‘cause he knows a lot about Captain Carroll, and I am gonna ask him questions. He might know about this map.

  There are more noises out front. I look through the butler door and see it’s my dad. He’s talking to Mr. West and Mrs. King. There’s one thing I wanna do before I go see him. I find the last conversation with Flynn O’Connor in my phone and type my message—can you come by in the morning? Urgent. Don’t tell anyone.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Rick

  RICK SURVEYED THE B&B grounds from his position near the kitchen sink. Long shadows cast by the early morning sun, reluctant to give up their hold, gradually gave way to the soft light of morning. He let his attention dart from the gazebo to one of the fountains and then along the winding decomposed granite paths. Even after the disaster at dinner, this morning held the promise of a beautiful day.

  Standing here had become an almost daily obsession. The bank of mullioned windows gave him a view of the grounds and an opportunity to say thank you to Captain Jack. His grandfather had left him a paradise. At least, that’s what it felt like.

  Marquetta came and stood next to Rick. She bumped against him gently with her shoulder. “What are you doing, boss?”

  “I’m letting my daughter buss the tables while I admire the view.” Rick chuckled, then looked at Marquetta. “We’ve had enough dreary days lately with all the rain. I’m just taking in the sunshine.”

  “You’re right. We should enjoy it while it’s here.”

  They should, thought Rick. They should have been able to enjoy last night, too. It should have been more about being a couple out with friends, not Captain Carroll and his arrogance. Rick took Marquetta’s hand, and when she looked at him, he said, “I’m sorry about last night. Things didn’t go as I planned.”

  “We aren’t always in control of what happens.” Marquetta looked down at the pile of utensils waiting to be washed. Suddenly, she shook her head and forced a smile. “It wasn’t your fault. Anyway, the breakfast rush is over. We should get something to eat.”

  “All the blame lies with Captain Carroll.” Rick looked around the room. It was one of the brightest rooms in the house. White cabinets, white-and-gray marbled granite countertops. Pale green walls and overhead lighting. “How could you not love this room?” he asked aloud.

  Marquetta smiled as she watched his face. “Mr. Atwood? Are you developing an attachment to my kitchen?”

  “And to the person in charge of said kitchen.”

  He moved toward her, intent on stealing a kiss while Alex was still in the dining room, but the butler door burst open. They both straightened up and faced Alex. She had a tray filled with plates, cups, saucers, and silverware.

  “The Wings are still at their table,” Alex chirped, a large grin on her face.

  “Wings?” Rick asked.

  “It’s her nickname for Mrs. West and Mr. King,” Marquetta said.

  Rick rolled his eyes. “Got it. Don’t you ever get tired of playing matchmaker?”

  “No way. It’s fun.” Alex set down the tray, looked up at Marquetta, and said, “Besides, we’re good at it.”

  He was about to suggest she let nature take it’s course, but stopped when the butler door swung open again.

  “Knock, knock,” Devon Van Horn said as he entered. He did a double take and regarded Rick. “You’re here?”

  “Morning, Devon. Come on in. Why wouldn’t I be?” Rick asked.

  Devon stammered, “No reason. I guess.”

  Marquetta went to the coffee maker and waved. “Coffee, Devon? I was about to start a new pot.”

  “I’d love some.
I’ve got a job I’m working on today so I only have a few minutes.” Devon crossed the room, pulled out one of the stools from the island, and sat, his frown obvious when he looked at Rick. “Actually, I came here because I heard about Captain Carroll.”

  Rick grimaced and regarded Marquetta. “It appears we’ve made the local news.”

  “How bad are the rumors, Devon?” Marquetta asked.

  “Rumors? Oh, sorry. This has nothing to do with the Crooked Mast incident—although there’s plenty to say about that. No, this is about Captain Carroll. He’s missing.” Devon cleared his throat and looked at Rick. “I assumed you’d be on the case already.”

  Alex drifted closer, her attention focused now on Devon. “Captain Carroll’s missing? Maybe somebody killed him and dumped the body.”

  “That’s it,” Rick scoffed. “I’m officially putting you into therapy, Alex. You’ve got murder on the brain. Just because the man is missing doesn’t mean someone killed him.”

  “It doesn’t mean they didn’t,” Alex shot back. “Besides, when you came home last night you said the way he was acting at the Crooked Mast that he deserved it.”

  One of Marquetta’s cheeks quirked up as she looked at Rick. “That’s not very nice.”

  Devon looked at Marquetta. “Not nice, perhaps, but Alex has a point. After the way Captain Carroll acted at the Crooked Mast, there have to be a number of people who might want him dead.”

  “Are you saying Mr. Gray might have killed Captain Carroll?” Alex asked.

  The back of Rick’s neck felt as though a spider were crawling across it. He’d been joking about Alex’s curiosity and a therapist—he expected her to get over her crime obsession in time, but the question about Joe Gray concerned him. If Alex was raising that question, who else might?

  “There’s no evidence of foul play, is there?” Rick asked.

  Devon took a sip from his cup, then shook his head. “Haven’t heard of any. Other than him being missing, of course.”