Divas, Diamonds & Death: a Danger Cove Pet Sitter Mystery (Danger Cove Mysteries Book 15)

by Sally J. Smith

  I continued, "Mr. Curtis said we could be sued if we didn't tell people about the defects in this particular section of the market before letting them use this space."

  Keith glanced around the space. It wasn't as large as most of the others, thanks to some rocky outcroppings that cut off one corner where we'd even had to shorten the leg of the canopy so it could be propped on a boulder instead of reaching all the way to the ground. Other than that, it did look much like the other spaces. Nothing noticeably scary or dangerous about it at all.

  "What could be so bad about a ten foot square piece of raw land?"

  "That's what I thought when I first saw it." I should have known Keith wouldn't be scared off easily. I was going to have to make up a story on the fly, and I was no good at winging things. Fortunately, I did have a mix of truth and fantasy to draw from, thanks to the time I'd spent at the historical museum this summer while getting to know the town. "Have you heard about Danger Cove's long history of pirates and smugglers?"

  "That's got nothing to do with this site," he said. "It belongs to the town, and it has forever. At least back to the construction of the lighthouse. I read about it on the town's website."

  "True, but the lighthouse isn't that old, and before that, the area was pretty wild. A perfect place for outlaws to hang out at night. It's been said that quite a few pirates died right in this spot, hunkered down by the boulders here when a rival gang claimed the top of the cliff for itself."

  "Are you telling me there are pirate ghosts in this space and I should be afraid of them?" Keith laughed. "I don't believe in ghosts."

  Neither did I, but I'd been hoping he would be susceptible to the sorts of stories told around campfires. I had a back-up plan, though.

  "You might not believe in ghosts, but your customers do. Almost everyone in town does." That much was probably true, but I added some embellishments that I was certain mixed fact with a substantial amount of fiction. "They told me not to set up anything in this corner, and it took me ages to find someone who wasn't from around here to be willing to sell things from here. And now she's dead."

  Keith blinked, and I knew I had him. "You mean some foolish old woman had a heart attack and died of fright or something?"

  "Oh, no." This part I didn't have to make up from whole cloth. The victim hadn't actually been in this back corner of the market, but she was sadly real. And she had died. "Her body was found underneath a pile of audio equipment. You must have heard about it. It was in all the newspapers. Over the Independence Day weekend."

  "I did hear something about that," Keith said uncertainly.

  "So, the thing is, if you do insist on staying here, you'll have to sign a release of liability." Judging from the look on his face, I was pretty sure he wasn't going to be sticking around the supposedly haunted spot for long, so I pretended to scroll through the apps on my phone for the non-existent liability release form. "But I have to tell you, most of the locals are going to give this area a wide berth. You might not be afraid of the curse, but no one who lives here will let their children anywhere near it, no matter how enticing your toys are. So don't blame me if there isn't a good enough return on investment for your risk."

  I held my breath, waiting for his decision. If this didn't work, I was going to have to call in one of the patrol cops after all. I didn't care how connected Keith was politically. I was not allowing clearly mass-produced products inside the main market. Their presence would, almost all by itself, disqualify the Lighthouse Farmers' Market from consideration for one of the "best of" lists. A commitment to locally sourced products was one of the most important features for most of the judges.

  In my peripheral vision, I caught sight of Jim Sweetwater starting in my direction. He was going to ruin my bluff. Except just then, the tomato farmer, Tommy Fordham, wheeled his chair into the Memorial Walkway, gestured for the other man to come close, and then whispered something in his ear. I had no idea what they were talking about, but then again, neither did Keith. To an outsider, I thought it would look a lot like Jim Sweetwater was being warned off from going anywhere near the "cursed" stall.

  Keith uncrossed his arms and let his hands fall to his sides. "So, what's the number for this hardware store that delivers canopies?"

  A SLAYING IN THE ORCHARD

  a Danger Cove Farmers' Market Mystery

  available August 22!