A Watery Death (A Missing Pieces Mystery Book 7)

by Joyce Lavene

  A Watery Death

  By

  Joyce and Jim Lavene

  A Missing Pieces Mystery

  Book coach and editor—Jeni Chappelle

  http://www.jenichappelle.com/

  Copyright © 2015 Joyce and Jim Lavene

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  Table of Contents

  A Watery Death

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  Captain Bill Lucky swaggered down the Duck Shoppes boardwalk with his roving eye cast on every woman. They swooned at the sight of him.

  He was an enviable man with his thick, slightly unruly black hair, and tall, commanding figure. Despite the heat of July in Duck, North Carolina, he wore tight black leather pants and a black leather vest over his blousy white shirt with hand-sewn French lace cuffs.

  His leather pants ended in thigh-high black boots with gold chains on them. A filigree dagger of uncertain origin was tucked in the side of his right boot. Matching gold chains laced his vest.

  “Ladies.” He bowed gracefully as he entered the Missing Pieces Thrift Shop.

  My friends, Trudy Devereaux and Reverend Lisa Wilcox, giggled when they heard his pleasant, sexy British accent. We’d been watching him as he approached.

  Captain Bill Lucky was the entire romantic, masculine package. He was also Captain of the new gambling ship, Andalusia II, which sailed through the Graveyard of the Atlantic from Duck each night.

  The ship was named for our local ghost ship that could be seen floating across the sea on moonlit nights. Its design had been taken from that famous lost galleon. The Andalusia was said to be the ghost of a wealthy Spanish treasure ship that foundered on the outer shoals like hundreds of others off the coast of Duck.

  “Good morning,” I greeted him, almost feeling the need to curtsy. “We were just having tea. Would you like to join us?”

  “Indeed I would, dear lady.” Captain Lucky kissed my hand and then set a red velvet bag on the floor near my burgundy brocade sofa, positioning himself carefully between Trudy and Lisa.

  “I have Earl Grey, chamomile, and orange spice,” I offered.

  “Earl Grey sounds enchanting, Mayor O’Donnell. Thank you for offering.”

  He smiled at all of us, using his bright blue eyes to their best advantage. They had been likened to sunlit sapphires by the local gossips.

  There was no doubt that the company that had built the gambling ship had made a wonderful choice to house this man in the captain’s stateroom. He was attractive, personable, and a walking billboard for a romantic short cruise on the ocean. I wasn’t sure if the ship even needed the hundreds of advertisements I’d seen in magazines. All they had to do was have him smile and invite people onboard.

  I wondered what my ancestor, Rafe Masterson, would have made of Captain Lucky. Rafe was the scourge of Duck in his time, four hundred years ago. I decided that Rafe would’ve been happy with a gambling ship plying these waters. It would have sparked his interest.

  “Thank you, dear lady.” Captain Lucky gave me his most ravishing smile as I handed him his cup.

  The four of us drank our tea. The shop was quiet the day before the big parade and festivities that came with the Fourth of July celebration in Duck. It was after that holiday that life got crazy for us.

  During the off-season between November and June, there were barely six hundred full-time residents. The town set between the Atlantic and the Currituck Sound was pretty and quiet.

  After June, we normally had an influx of twenty-five to thirty thousand visitors. The two lanes of Highway 12 that ran through the Outer Banks became clogged with traffic. Hotels and restaurants were full—that was a plus. Petty crime went up too, and that was a challenge for our tiny police department.

  Since February when the gambling ship had launched, things had been different. There had been more people before the season, besides the hundred-and-twenty crew members who were there to service the vessel. The hotels had moderate gains, and most of the restaurants had stayed open. There weren’t as many complaints from local people as when we had a full house in July, and the town was a lot livelier.

  I wasn’t looking forward to the crowds brought by the hot summer months.

  Trudy was talking about her upcoming wedding. Her parents had purchased her custom-made gown from our local dress shop. It emphasized her slight figure and flawless, tanned skin. She was still unsure how to wear her platinum blond hair that day. Flowers were also in question.

  Reverend Lisa would officiate at Trudy’s wedding to my friend, Tim Mabry. She’d been a big help pulling the whole wedding together and working with my friends on their vows. It seemed as though the September date was coming up very quickly.

  “If I may?” Captain Lucky entered the conversation with his usual suave style. “I believe every man wants to see his new bride with her hair flowing free. No clips or other unnecessary things. Just a wealth of silky mane, waiting for him to run his fingers through it.”

  He was as good as his word, running his long fingers through Trudy’s shoulder-length hair.

  She shivered, closed her eyes, and smiled. “Y-you really think so?”

  “Very much so, lovely lady. I’m certain if you asked your betrothed he’d say the same.”

  Reverend Lisa smiled and ran her fingers through her own long, black hair. “I think Captain Lucky has a point, Trudy. And if any man knows about women, it’s him.”

  I smiled and sipped my tea. Watching Captain Lucky’s response was like watching the tide swell. He was a beautiful man, and he was well aware of it. But the times I’d spoken with him, he was also polite and seemed to be a genuinely nice person. I was never sure if that was part of the act or if it was really him.

  “I have to go.” Reverend Lisa got to her feet. “There’s choir practice today and we have to be ready for the parade tomorrow.”

  “How is the float coming along?” I asked. The mostly tissue-paper-flower-covered truck bed had been accidentally left out and destroyed by rain two weeks before.

  “It’s much better.” Lisa smiled. “We have some hardworking, talented people at our church. I’ve never seen tissue paper flowers fly out of scissors so fast. I’ll talk to you later, Trudy. Have a good day, Captain Lucky. You too, Dae.”

  Trudy left too. She had to get back to her shop, Curls and Curves Beauty Spa, next door. She winked and pursed her lips at leaving me alone with Captain Lucky. She didn’t have to worry about anything going on between us. I would never be Captain Lucky’s type.

  I put her flowered cup and saucer back on the small
sideboard that I used for making tea at the shop. Friends tended to drop by, and I always wanted to be ready for a nice chat. That was part of why Missing Pieces was so important to me.

  For my grandfather who shared a house with me, Missing Pieces was a place that I could put all the things that came to me. I had a gift for finding things—never useless things but sometimes things that had to be kept for a while to understand their value. It took some people time to realize what they’d lost, and why it was important.

  Of course some of what I kept and sold in my little shop belonged to no one. Or I’d come across it when people had needed or wanted to sell something. Even those things required someplace to be until they’d found a new home.

  As I was rinsing the cups and saucers, I realized that Captain Lucky hadn’t left. He’d bowed to Lisa and Trudy as they’d walked out the door, but he’d stayed behind, perusing everything I had for sale.

  I dried my hands on a towel and smiled at him. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

  “No. Not exactly.” He smiled back at me and adjusted the chains on his vest.

  Of course. The red velvet bag.

  “You have something to sell?”

  His face turned a little pink, but even embarrassment looked good on him.

  “Yes. I’m a little short of cash, and I thought you might be interested in an item. It’s one of a kind. Very unique.”

  I walked to the front, glass counter where I kept small, very valuable items under lock and key. “I’ll be glad to take a look. No promises.”

  “No. I certainly didn’t expect any.” He retrieved the red velvet bag and joined me at the counter. “I believe you’ll be interested in this item. Believe me—I would never part with it if it weren’t necessary.”

  He opened the velvet bag with a flourish, like a stage magician about to unveil something that would surprise and amaze me. Inside was a single piece of white coral that had been carved into the shape of a small cornucopia.

  Captain Lucky held it out to me. “My ancestor sailed with Christopher Columbus when he found the New World. My great-grandmother was from Genoa. She claimed that he was related to us. That’s how the horn came to be in her hands. She gave it to me on her deathbed as her only heir.”

  I was reluctant to take the piece in my hands without wearing protective gloves. Part of the way I was able to find missing or lost items was to hold hands with their owners. I could also touch something and see its history—where it had been and sometimes where it was going. I could tell many fascinating secrets about people and their belongings.

  Sometimes those secrets were terrible, painful memories that were trapped in the item. That had happened to me too many times not to be prepared for the worst.

  “Is something amiss?” he asked as he watched me put on my gloves. “I assure you that the horn doesn’t hold germs or diseases, if that worries you.”

  Captain Lucky was new to Duck. Local residents knew about my gift for finding lost things and people. They’d grown accustomed to the times when I felt the need to protect myself.

  “I’m not worried about germs,” I assured him. “But sometimes my gift can be painful. Bad memories can be left behind in things that come to me. They cause harsh disturbances.”

  He looked surprised at that, his blue eyes between thick black lashes widening for a moment. “I had no idea. I’ve heard the tales about you, of course. You’ve found people who were kidnapped and missing objects that might never have been located. I didn’t know those things made an impact on your life in that way.”

  “I just need a little protection sometimes.” I felt silly hearing him say the words back to me. “Better safe than sorry, my grandfather always says.”

  “And a good axiom it is too.” He put his hand on mine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. If you feel you need protection to examine this for me, I understand.”

  Sometimes I got immediate impressions from people when they touched me. Captain Lucky was one of those people. I could see what he’d had for dinner yesterday—shrimp—and knew he’d been kissing someone right before he came here today. I couldn’t see the lady’s face, but it didn’t surprise me, and I tried not to judge.

  He seemed more nervous to me than shrimp or a kiss would make him. I wondered if it was because of the item he wanted to sell or the reason he felt it was necessary to sell it.

  “That’s all right. It’s no bother. And what an interesting piece this is, even without your family’s story that goes with it. You called it a horn. What does it do?”

  He chuckled. “I can’t speak to it myself since I’ve never witnessed it, but my great- grandmother swore that a mermaid gave it to my ancestor on his voyage. It seemed she had fallen in love with him and wanted to have a way to contact him. No cell phones at that time.”

  As he spoke, I examined the coral horn. It was amazingly light, and so carefully hewn that all the edges were round and perfectly smooth. It twisted upon itself like a conch shell with several layers leading to the center of it. Inside, the white coral had a pink tone that reached to a deeper purple at its heart.

  “What happened to your ancestor?”

  “Alas, I have no idea. I assumed he made it home on his last voyage since we have this fine work of art. I’m not even sure what his name was, as my great-grandmother had forgotten.”

  “And what was he supposed to do with it?”

  Captain Lucky lazily grinned, showing perfect white teeth. “Why blow it, of course. The horn is supposed to summon the seafolk, one mermaid in particular. My great-grandmother warned me never to blow into it. She said people had told her the result of calling the seafolk could be cataclysmic. Thus, I have never tried it. The people in Genoa, who live and die by the sea, know about these things.”

  Even through the gloves, I could feel an energy coming from the horn. It didn’t feel dark or angry, but there was power there. It was probably best that Captain Lucky had never tried to use it.

  I put the horn back in the velvet bag and took off my gloves. “I could never pay you what this is worth. I’m sure a collector would give you quite a bit for it with the provenance you have.”

  He put his hand on the bag. “How much could you give me for it now, Mayor?”

  There was that edge again.

  “I don’t know. I could take a look at what I have. It’s more likely that I’d have a better cash supply after the parade tomorrow when tourists hopefully swarm into my shop and buy everything.” I smiled at him to keep it light, but his frown deepened.

  “There is a certain problem that has arisen for me. I hesitate to burden you with it, but I find myself at loose ends and needing to get out of town for a few days.”

  In other words, he needed the cash now.

  It wasn’t the first time someone local had brought me a valuable artifact that they wouldn’t have parted with except in an extreme situation. I wasn’t a pawn shop, but I’d held things for people before who’d come back for them with the money I’d paid them in hand.

  I looked in the register. I’d had a sale that morning—a good one—and for once had more than a few dollars. My business wasn’t big enough for me to keep a stash of money for these particular times. Some months, I was barely able to pay rent and utilities.

  “There’s five hundred dollars in here,” I told him. “If that will help you—”

  “Bless you, lady mayor.” Captain Lucky seemed thrilled with that amount. “That should suffice my needs until my next payday. I shall have returned by then. I am very grateful to you.”

  “I won’t sell it,” I told him. “It will still be here when you come back.”

  Captain Lucky was near tears after my words. He lifted my hand in his and lingered over it, planting a soft but endearing kiss on it. “I am forever in your debt. If it were not for my knowledge of your fiancé being a potentially dangerous man, I should spirit you away from him!”

  Between the kiss and his deep, soulful gaze on my face
, it was no wonder that my fiancé, Kevin Brickman, had a curious expression on his face when he stopped by to pick me up for lunch.

  “He’s very grateful,” I explained to Kevin.

  “I can see that.” His lips twisted in a wry smile. “Good to see you, Captain Lucky. If you’re done with my girlfriend’s hand, maybe you’d like to join us for lunch at Wild Stallions.”

  Captain Lucky released me and accepted the five hundred dollars in cash that I gave him.

  He quickly shook Kevin’s hand. “It’s very good to see you, innkeeper. Your lady has made my morning a celebration. You are indeed a fortunate man.”

  Captain Lucky nearly skipped out of the shop and down the boardwalk.

  “What was that all about?” Kevin asked.

  “He said he needs to get out of town for a few days. He was willing to give away a family heirloom for five hundred dollars.” I carefully took out the horn, with gloved hands, and laid it on the velvet bag. “I’ll give him his horn back after he gets paid. I’m not sure if I could sell it anyway. It has an interesting story that goes with it. If it’s true, it could be worth thousands of dollars.”

  He lifted the coral horn and examined it. I told him about Captain Lucky’s family ties to Christopher Columbus.

  “You wore gloves when you looked at it, right?” He put it back on the bag.

  “I wouldn’t take a chance with it.”

  The door opened, and Mrs. McGee came in with a blast of warm wind from the Currituck Sound—not to mention her precocious grandson, Travis.

  “She’s only here for a package,” I whispered to Kevin. “Just a minute and I’ll close for lunch.”

  “No rush.”

  Mrs. McGee took her package and told me all about the special event her Girl Scout troop had planned for the next day. I didn’t notice when Travis lifted the coral horn and fixed his lips to it as though he knew exactly what to do.

  Before I could stop him, he blew into the coral. A long, mournful sound came from it that echoed for several minutes. The hauntingly deep call took over every other sound. It was as though nothing else moved until it had faded away. Time stood still.