Smugglers & Scones

by Talbot, Morgan C

  “It belongs to Jordan,” I said. “You all heard what Kyle said. Jordan’s a Nicolosi. That painting is hers.”

  Lake came over and offered the container on both palms. “Whatever’s in here, you’ve earned it.”

  Jordan slowly accepted the old leather cylinder and hugged it with one arm. “Thank you. Thank all of you.”

  “Aren’t you gonna open it?” Paul asked.

  Skylar smacked him on the arm. “It’s not a birthday present.”

  Lake pulled out his keys and offered a small tool. “I could cut through the wax and pull off the cap, at least. Let you get a peek.”

  Jordan looked around at all our eager faces. I gently nudged her shoulder. “You wanna see. You know you do.”

  “Okay, just a peek.”

  Lake gingerly cut through the old, sturdy wax. He and Jordan pulled, and the cap separated from the cylinder with a soft pop. Everyone leaned in, but I could see better than anyone from where I stood over Jordan’s shoulder. Canvas, covered in paint and rolled with care, spiraled around and around inside the leather case.

  “Oh, my God,” she stage-whispered through an enormous smile. Her excitement was contagious. I gasped and promptly forgot how to exhale.

  Graciela’s treasure had been found.

  Skylar’s face was alight. “This is way better than Indiana Jones.”

  “Fewer Nazis, that’s for sure,” Al teased, though he couldn’t tear his eyes from the open treasure, either.

  I helped Jordan up and gave her a hug. “Now, let’s get you out of here. I’m sure Doc Stevens will want to take a look at you.” We started up the concrete steps, and the others fell in behind us. “And who knows,” I added, “maybe I’ll buy myself a new pair of boots, too.”

  24

  “Of course my characters keep going past the end of the book. The best stories never finish being told, and the best characters can’t be confined to a collection of paper and ink.”

  Raymond Moore, 1961

  Mr. Vanderveer insisted on giving Jordan the next few days off to recover from her ordeal, so she came to breakfast with Lake, Hilt, Chloe, and my guests. I made the promised scones—maple oat hazelnut again—but for Jordan, I crafted her favorite: panda-shaped pancakes with plenty of maple syrup. Doc Stevens had declared that my best friend would be just fine. The bump on her forehead was mostly hidden behind a Band-Aid.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” I told her as I brought out a second panda.

  She stabbed the pancake and pulled it onto her plate, next to the right foot of her previous breakfast victim. “Me, too. If you guys hadn’t talked to Geneva, if you hadn’t come down through the tunnel and found my phone… I can’t even imagine. So I brought you a present to say thank you, and you have to accept it. Promise me.”

  Chloe leaned forward across the table with half a scone in her hand and interjected, “Pippa, you have to accept. It’s rescue protocol!”

  Jordan nodded toward my intern. “See?”

  I met her eyes, and her face told me she was entirely serious—more serious than the day she bought me a chocolate cake topped with BFFs in red frosting and told me she’d decided to be my best friend, and that there was nothing I could do to stop her. “Okay, but only because this whole mystery is so tightly connected to Raymond Moore.”

  She stuffed the panda’s left leg into her mouth. “I knew you’d see it my way. I’ll give it to you after breakfast, when we can get a minute to ourselves. You’ll understand why when you see it.”

  “Tease.” I slipped into my seat.

  Paul asked Hilt, “Any word on the chief yet?”

  Hilt nodded, his mouth full of scone. “Yeah, he’s home. Rest for a few days, then light duty until Doc Stevens says otherwise. He’s not sure what’s gonna happen after that.”

  “Is it good luck or bad that he missed all the excitement?” Skylar asked.

  “Good,” Lake said.

  “Bad,” Chloe contradicted.

  “Guess that depends on who you ask.” I helped myself to some eggs and another scone.

  “The chief also told me about Kyle’s first victim,” Hilt said with hesitation. “Apparently, after Officer Tavish got him into custody, he confessed to one more murder.”

  Lake leaned forward. “Who was it?”

  Hilt sighed. “Grandpa Jerry. The three of them hadn’t been in town long when Jerry shared his personal theory with Kyle—that the treasure had to be lightweight. Bearer bonds, maybe a painting. Something a woman could keep with her at all times along with a baby.”

  “Kyle killed a dying old man because he might have been right about how much the treasure weighed?” I gaped. “That’s awful.”

  “Wow. And I thought I was dark.” Chloe ran her fingers through her dyed hair.

  “Oh, no, hon,” Skylar said in a chipper, encouraging tone. “You totally are, and I love it. Just don’t murder anyone.”

  Chloe paused her fork in midair and nodded. “Solid advice.”

  Al had been particularly subdued all morning. When he finally spoke, his eyes remained on his half-eaten breakfast. “I’m suddenly questioning my entire method. Moore wrote The Crimson Kiss almost a century ago, and even though he changed some details to keep baby Angelina safe, the bad guys still figured it out. And then you almost lost your best friend last night, Pippa. I would hate to follow reality so closely that I ever endangered anyone. That’s not cool, man.”

  Paul nabbed a hazelnut-studded roll from the platter in the middle of the table and tossed it in a high arc toward Al. As Al caught it, Paul said, “Don’t worry, there, old man. I’m pretty sure no one is ever going to take your time-traveling mysteries as realistic.”

  “Ouch,” murmured Lake from beside Al.

  Hilt spoke up. “Hey, I’ll take my murders with as little realism as I can get them, if it’s all the same to you, bud.”

  Skylar raised her class of OJ. “I’ll drink to that.”

  We finished breakfast with easy chatter that did its best to restore normalcy. I knew it would take me quite a while to adjust to my own new reality. Two people I had known were dead. I had almost lost Jordan to her crazed, distant half cousin. And I was pretty sure, judging by the looks that Lake was giving me over his five-high pancake stack, that I was easing into a brand-new relationship—my first in over six years.

  Lake helped me clear away the dishes while the authors tried not so subtly to get Jordan to spill her emotional play-by-play during her brief kidnapping.

  In the kitchen, Lake said, “You really were amazing last night, you know that? That was really brave of you to risk yourself for your friend. I’m ashamed to say that I’m not sure I would’ve done the same thing.”

  I started stacking the plates in the sink for rinsing. “I hope you never have to find out. I still can’t believe I did that, stepping into the room with a man wielding a gun. I mean, that’s the sort of thing that happens in my guests’ books, not in real life.”

  Lake took my wet hands in his. “I think they’re rubbing off on you for the better. You knew what to do. You may not be a cop, a mafia prince, a time-traveling detective, or a mild-mannered secretary who talks to ghosts, but you got the job done, and you saved Jordan. That’s what counts.”

  I smiled. “I also saved your life, remember.”

  He pulled me closer, and my damp palms found their way to his shoulders. “I’ll never forget it. My hero.” He leaned down, and our lips met. When they parted some while later, he added breathlessly, “I have some good news to tell you. I know you’re gonna love it.”

  The doorbell rang before I could ask what it was, but I was already hoping it involved finishing what we’d started in the back corner of the marina office. Chloe hollered down the hallway that someone wanted to speak with Lake. Reluctantly, he pulled away fro
m me. He shot me a sexy grin and headed out under the arch.

  Jordan extricated herself from the authors and gestured frantically at me. “Quick, before they tackle me again. Let me give you your gift.”

  She grabbed my hand and dragged me into the small parlor, down the hall to the right. What looked like a framed painting wrapped in brown paper leaned against one of my green chairs.

  “Jordan, I know we let you take the painting case home to open it by yourself, but you’re not giving it to me, are you? That’s not right. You should keep it.”

  Her smile was a mile wide. She picked up the wrapped painting and pressed it into my hands. “It’s fine, Pippa. When I finally pulled everything out of that case, I found more than one painting rolled up inside, safe and sound. In fact, I found five, all wrapped up together. I also found provenance stating they belonged to Graciela and were part of her dowry. And a marriage certificate between Fabrizio Nicolosi and Graciela Barranco y Principe, proving that Graciela was lawfully wed to Angelina’s Italian father. My parents are calling in an art expert, but if those signatures in the corners are legitimate, let’s just say nobody in my family will have to worry about retirement funds or private college tuition. For the next three generations.”

  “Omigod, are you serious?” I jumped up and down in excitement for her.

  She made an urgent waving gesture. “Open it. I don’t care how much this one is worth. You need to have it. You’ll see why when you open it.”

  I gingerly rested the frame across the arms of the nearest chair then peeled the packing tape loose and folded down the heavy paper. I gasped at the sight of the beautiful Italian villa nestled on the hill in the fading light. “Jordan! This is Paradiso Fugace! The actual painting from The Crimson Kiss! The fake painting that Hilton Gray was investigating!”

  Jordan squeezed me tight. “I know, right? You see why you have to have this painting. You can hang it in plain sight, and no one will ever know how much it’s really worth. Moorehaven played a big part in saving my life, if you think about it. This is just my way of saying thank you, to you, and to Raymond Moore. He saved my grandmother, and now, by hiring Hilt who hired you who came to my rescue, he’s saved me.”

  My eyes filled with warm tears, and I gave Jordan a long, tight hug. “Thank you. I told you hotel concierges were amazing.”

  She laughed and wiped a tear from the corner of her own eye. “And so are bed and breakfast hostesses.”

  We peeked down the hall in both directions. No one was in sight. In a few short seconds, I pulled the reproduction from the wall and Jordan hung the original in its place. We wrapped the reproduction in the brown paper and taped it shut. I hoped I could keep my mouth as tightly sealed. Hilt would absolutely die to know about this new Moorehaven secret.

  “Wallis’s business is sure booming,” Jordan said as I strapped down the last piece of tape. “I have bouquets at my house from people I don’t even know. And I know literally everyone in Seacrest.”

  “Despite our delightful town’s obsession with murder, everyone’s glad the killing has stopped.”

  Her eyes glittered with something I couldn’t identify. “Fallon stopped by to make sure I wasn’t quitting or anything. He barely finished asking about me when he started asking about you. I warned you not to be interesting.” She glanced at the door to the hallway then back at me. “You’ve got a great thing starting with Lake. Don’t let Fallon make it weird.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Jordan let out a huge sigh. “I’d better get back to my parents’ place. They’re insisting I stay with them for a couple of days so they can watch over me. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure they know where the real Paradiso is. Take care, Pippa. I’ll see you at Glaze and Gossip soon.”

  I showed her to the door, but as I held it open for her, I heard Mallory’s voice from my porch. Bristling at this woman’s constant invasion of my personal life, I shut the door and sneaked into the front parlor, oozing along the cushions of the dark-red couch so she didn’t see me through the clear portions of the stained-glass windows. From where I lay, splayed out like a rag doll, I could hear her conversation with Lake perfectly. Until Svetlana settled her front paws on my forehead and started licking my cheeks, seeking leftover flavor. “Svetta, no, down. Bad girl—oh, never mind.”

  Past the rasping of my cat’s tongue, I heard Mallory say, “—know how I feel about you. And I know how you feel about me. And I’m pretty sure I know how you feel about her. Please. I know I’m taking a chance here. You’re a good man. Don’t make the wrong decision.”

  A small, metallic jingle reached my ears. Then Lake said, “You always did make irrefutable arguments. Let’s do this for now, and see how it goes. You know what that means.”

  “I do know. And I understand. Thank you, Lakyn.”

  My stomach flipped, dropped, and tied itself in a knot. A few moments later, the front door opened, and Lake stepped in, alone. I had no time to free myself from Svetlana, get up off the couch, and pretend I hadn’t been shamelessly eavesdropping, but Lake seemed too distracted to notice. I pressed the cat off my head and sat up as he approached and joined me on the couch.

  “So that good news you wanted to tell me?” I wiped cat spit off my cheeks with the backs of my hands as surreptitiously as I could.

  He frowned for a moment. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Guess what I just did?”

  I drew a complete blank, too busy hoping I didn’t smell like cat food and that Lake hadn’t just gotten back with his ex.

  “I just bought Blade and Boom Sea Tours from Gwen Scott. You’re looking at the new owner. I hope Cecil doesn’t mind, but I’m kind of planning to wear his white captain’s hat all the time now.”

  My jaw dropped. I wasn’t sure what I had been expecting, but that wasn’t it. I squeezed his hands. “That’s amazing. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you.” He kneaded my hands with his thumbs, burning nervous energy. Finally, he spoke. “And I just got some other news. I won’t be mooching off your generosity for too much longer. I’ve got a place to live.”

  Oh, no. Please don’t tell me you’re moving in with your ex…

  He jangled a set of utilitarian-looking keys at me. “You’re looking at the first resident of the Seacrest lighthouse in about seventy years.”

  My spine straightened in confusion. “What do you mean? The lighthouse is in ruins. Wait, you’re going to live in that basement? That’s a total dump. A-A-A health hazard!”

  He nodded. “It’ll take a while to get the debris all cleared out and the basement levels cleaned up and updated, all that sort of thing. The first-floor entrance is intact, and I won’t have to repair the broken tower because it’s a tourist draw, and the structural report says the ruin is stable. So it’s mine, free and clear.” His grin faltered, and he hesitated. “Well, technically, it’s Mallory’s.”

  I stared at him. “So, you’re going to move into your ex-wife’s seaside vacation ruin? No, no, nothing strange about that.”

  Lake chuckled, not sensing my inner tension. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that soothing boom of the waves. Mallory remembered how much I love the sea. She talked to Geneva Laine early this morning and arranged the purchase. I couldn’t let her go to all that trouble for nothing when it’s exactly the kind of place I want. You know, minus the spilled whisky and the hundred-year-old dust.”

  I forced a smile on to my features. She bought him the perfect house. She knows him far better than I do. She’s marking her territory, and I’m going to have to live in this town with the both of them. I’m not up for him bouncing back and forth between the two of us. I can’t compete with her apparently bottomless bank account. And I’m definitely not walking down that other road, throwing myself at him in desperation. I spent years shedding my party-girl image after one mistake. I’m not risking that label here
in Seacrest. This is my home now.

  Lake squeezed my hands. “Pippa? You in there?”

  I blinked. “Sorry. I’m glad you’re staying in town, Lake. I hope to get to know you a lot better.”

  He smiled and leaned in. “Me, too,” he whispered against my lips.

  I indulged the kiss, grateful for it, but uncertain how many more I’d get. Then I took a deep breath and stood up. “Didn’t you promise Uncle Hilt that you’d help him with the third-floor plumbing today?”

  “I did, yeah, but—”

  “And after that, if you could help Chloe restock the office supplies. I have a list stickied to my desk.”

  “Sure, Pippa, but—”

  I gave him my most charming smile. “Thank you so much for pitching in while you’re still here at Moorehaven. I assure you, I appreciate every bit of help and support.”

  The phone rang out in the hallway. I swung around the L-shaped counter and grabbed the receiver. “Good morning, Moorehaven Bed and Breakfast Inn.”

  “Pippa, I have the best news ever!”

  My eyes bugged. “Trudie? What’s going on?” My little sister had such a knack for getting into trouble. It was exactly the opposite of funny. And two phone calls in such a short time could only mean she was in trouble.

  “Hold onto your socks, big sis. You’ll never guess. Oh, I just have to tell you. I’m moving to Seacrest!”

  I froze, gripped by that feeling that overtakes me in dreams, when I want to run but can’t. “What? When?”

  “Well, I still need to make all the arrangements. But I have such plans—you would not believe them. It’s going to be so exciting living in the same town as you! Just like old times. Won’t that be awesome?”

  My face froze in an uncomfortable grimace. Yeah. Awesome. Just like old times.

  When Trudie finished spinning ideas for our new future, we hung up. I stared up at the peacock-pane chandelier in the entryway and sighed. First Lake and then Trudie. A knot formed in my stomach, and I took a few minutes to reassure myself that I could do this. I could deal with a man with baggage and a sister with even more baggage. I had just solved a murder. Two murders. And saved Jordan. And probably saved Chief Craig, too. I could do this.