New Corpse in Town (Secret Seal Isle Mysteries Book 1)

by Lucy Quinn

  “But you won’t, because you’re too good to let emotions—yours or anybody else’s—color the investigation,” Hunter finished for her. He glanced up at the sky, gauging the sun and the clouds, then looked at his watch. “Listen, we’ve been at this for a while, and I don’t know about you, but all this walking around and fresh air is starting to take a toll. Why don’t we head back to the inn, maybe grab a bite, talk over what we’ve found so far, and figure out what to do next? One good thing about this being an island is that our suspects aren’t likely to go anywhere any time soon.”

  “Works for me,” Cookie agreed. It got dark quickly out here, and the idea of putting her feet up and sipping something cold sounded good right about now. She could probably eat, too. Lunch felt as if it had been ages ago.

  As she led the way back to the inn, though, she wondered just how much they really had to talk about. It felt as if they had a whole bunch of suspects and absolutely no leads. The case was going nowhere fast. They’d have to up their game before the investigation was declared dead and buried in Deputy Swan’s filing cabinet.

  10

  Back at the inn, all seemed quiet.

  Too quiet.

  “Mom?” Cookie called up the stairs. “Hello?”

  Rain had already disappeared more than a few times in the short while they’d been on the island. She’d just go out for a walk, leaving behind her keys, phone, ID, money, and often shoes, and reappear three or four hours later, completely unapologetic about how much time had passed. Cookie, meanwhile, would be completely frantic and on the verge of mounting an armed patrol to seek out her mother and punish the dastardly villains who had clearly kidnapped her, because otherwise she certainly would have returned by now. Or at the very least called to say she was still alive.

  “Out here, sweetie,” her mother answered, the call coming through the kitchen.

  Cookie breathed a sigh of relief and headed toward the back door, Hunter in tow, to find her mother. But she wasn’t alone.

  “It was terrible,” Rain was saying. “I nearly died! So I figure I deserve a little something to calm my nerves, don’t you? It’s only fair.”

  “More than fair,” their guest, Mary Seiger, replied.

  “Mom!” Cookie gasped, stopping in the doorway and trying in vain to block Hunter’s view or exit. “What are you doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Rain replied, reclining in her hammock. There were several out back in addition to the two hanging along the front porch, making it very clear that life here on the island was easy, laid-back, and didn’t require a whole lot of effort. She was dressed at least, which Cookie was thankful for, wearing her customary short-shorts and tie-dyed tank top, and she had on enormous sunglasses that blocked not only her eyes, but also half her face.

  Unfortunately, they did nothing to hide the joint currently dangling from her lips.

  “Care for a hit, dear?” Rain asked, offering the joint to her. The skunky smell wafted toward Cookie, making her think she might just get a contact high. “Good stuff, this. Got it from the local boy, the one with the amusingly apt name. Amazed he can get something this fine out here, but I’m certainly not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “No, I don’t want any!” Cookie hissed, trying to keep her voice down even though she knew it wouldn’t help much. Hunter was right behind her, after all, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. Which normally would be all kinds of distracting, but right now she was a little too focused on her pot-smoking mother and the woman lounging in the hammock beside her.

  “Your loss,” Mary commented, reaching out lazily and accepting the joint from Rain. “Your mother’s right, this is some really good pot right here.”

  Hunter poked Cookie in the side right then, and her involuntary jump gave him just enough space to squeeze past her and finally step outside. “Hello again, Ms. James,” he said politely. “Mrs. Seiger, we met this morning. How are you ladies this fine day?” Cookie noticed that his eyes were very carefully staying on the women’s gazes rather than the contraband in their hands or mouths.

  “Oh, couldn’t be better,” Rain replied with a breezy laugh. “Especially now that you’re here. I hope Cookie’s been showing you the sights?” Her meaning couldn’t have been clearer if it had been painted on the side of a barn, Cookie thought as her face flamed with embarrassment.

  “We’ve been having a very enlightening day,” Hunter answered with surprising diplomacy. He glanced back over his shoulder and winked at her. “I don’t know that I’ve seen as much as I’d like yet, but I’m hoping it’s just a matter of time.”

  “You smooth-talker, you!” Rain exclaimed, all but slapping her side as she laughed so hard she almost fell out of the hammock. “Handsome and glib! Tell you what, if my daughter’s so foolish as to pass, you come see me, hmm? I’d be happy to show you all the sights myself.” Rain ran her suggestive gaze down his body, and Cookie couldn’t decide if she should laugh or gag.

  She was distracted from having to make a choice, however, as a new figure came barreling around the side of the house.

  “There you are, Mary!” Henry exclaimed. “I’ve been looking everywhere. I thought we were going to take a stroll along the beach before we—” He stopped mid-sentence, staring in shock as his wife of thirty years puffed on the joint before relinquishing it to Rain. He frowned and then sputtered as his face turned the shade of a tomato. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m getting high, dear. What does it look like?” Mary said this as if it were the most obvious thing in the world—which, to be fair, it really was. “Would you care for a hit?”

  “No, I don’t want a hit!” Henry snarled, stomping over to her hammock. “And neither do you. What is wrong with you?” He glared at her then switched his ire to Rain. “This is all your fault!” he accused. “We came here for a nice, relaxing getaway—not to get stoned with some ancient hippie.”

  Rain, of course, didn’t exactly help matters with her reply. “I’d say she’s pretty relaxed right about now.”

  She had a point.

  “Come on, Mary!” Henry reached out and grabbed his wife by the arm, practically hauling her from the hammock. Cookie tensed and saw Hunter do the same, but Mary didn’t resist, and her husband wasn’t hurting her, which meant they really didn’t have any right to interfere. Much as Cookie might want to.

  “But there’s still at least half the joint left,” Mary protested even as she let her husband half-lead and half-drag her away. She glanced longingly at Rain. “Couldn’t we at least finish it?”

  “Oh, we’re finished here all right,” her husband declared. He glowered at Rain, who was oblivious, before turning to Cookie instead. “We’re cancelling the rest of our reservation. I’m putting Mary in the car and going upstairs to pack our things. Then we’re gone.”

  “Please, Mr. Seiger,” Cookie pleaded. “Don’t go. I’m sorry about… all this, but I’m sure we can fix it. We’d really like you to stay. How about a nice dinner on us? Rain—uh… I make a mean lobster thermidor.”

  She thought he was softening a little, and reached out toward him, but just then Rain giggled behind her. And, as Cookie watched, Henry’s face hardened again.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. James,” he told her as stiffly as an undertaker. “But we simply can’t stay here a minute longer.” He stepped a little closer to her and lowered his voice, though only a notch, as he continued, “You should really do something about her, you know. She’s going to continue to drive away guests if you don’t.”

  Then he swiveled back around and walked away, taking his wife with him. Her voice trailed off as she began to talk about how pretty the flower gardens were.

  Cookie just stared after them for a second before she spun about to stare down at her mother.

  “Really, Mom?” she admonished. “Our first real guests, and you drive them away by getting high with one of them? And not just that, but in front of an FBI agent. Hunter could a
rrest you right now if he wanted to.”

  Hunter was very carefully studying the darkening sky as if searching for enemy planes, alien saucers, low-flying ducks, or pretty much anything but the scene unfolding right in front of him.

  “Oh, he wouldn’t do that, would you, sweetie?” Rain asked casually.

  “I would if I were to see you smoking an illegal substance such as marijuana,” Hunter replied carefully, his eyes still on the sky. “Which I do not.”

  “See? He’s a good one,” Rain assured Cookie. “Latch onto him now, sweetie, before he gets away.” She laughed and took another hit.

  “This isn’t funny, Mom!” Cookie insisted. “The Seigers were our guests. Now they’re gone. How, exactly, are we going to afford this place if no one wants to come stay here?” Cookie’s heart pounded in anger against her chest.

  But her mother was unmoved as she took a deep drag of her joint. “You worry too much,” she advised in the strained voice of one that is holding their breath before exhaling long and loudly. “It’ll make you old before your time, dear. Take a page out of my book. Just relax a bit, go with the flow. You’ll live longer.”

  “I won’t live longer, because I’ll starve to death as the owner of an inn no one wants to visit!” Cookie shouted, finally losing her temper at her mother’s antics. “Which I wouldn’t have to worry about if you’d grow up a little. Stop acting like a rebellious teen for one minute!”

  Rain threw her head back, and the hammock careened dangerously with her motion, threatening to toss her out. “Ooh, I’d love to be a teen again.” She swung back up, looked past Cookie, and winked at Hunter. “You should’ve seen me then,” she said with a slow smile. “I’d have knocked your socks off.”

  “I can believe that,” he answered before once again looking away. Rain just laughed.

  “We’re going inside,” Cookie told her, tired of fighting and realizing she couldn’t win this argument anyway. In order to do that, she’d first have to get her mother to listen and acknowledge what she’d done. And that clearly wasn’t going to happen considering the state she was in. “We’re going to see about finding some dinner. You can stay out here and do whatever you want. That’s up to you.”

  As she turned to head back inside, though, Cookie couldn’t resist saying over her shoulder, “Maybe, since you seem to already know everybody on the island, you can make friends with some of the locals, hmm? That way you won’t have to sit around scaring off all our guests instead.”

  Then she stomped off. Hunter wisely chose to follow, but only at a safe distance.

  11

  “Morning.”

  Cookie’s keyboard stopped clicking as she glanced up from the laptop, and felt the smile breaking across her face. “Morning,” she replied to Dylan, who’d just wandered back into the living room-slash-office. His tone had been noncommittal, almost businesslike. But when he saw her smile, his own face relaxed and he returned the expression.

  His words still came out a little brusque, however, when he asked, “Where’s your bodyguard?”

  She started to chuckle then sighed, so it came out as a mix of the two. “Off in town conferring with Deputy Swan, I think.”

  Dylan fingered one of the little trinkets on the desk between them, a classic hula-girl swivel doll Rain used to have mounted on her dash all through Cookie’s childhood. “You two together?” he asked, not looking at her.

  “Me and Hunter?” That drew a full-on snort from her. “Not likely. He’s a little too… possessive for my tastes.”

  Truth be told, Hunter had come on to her again last night. After the whole incident with Rain, Cookie had worked out her aggressions in the kitchen, pounding some veal for scaloppini and the like. Hunter had given her some space, offering to help fetch ingredients but otherwise keeping out of her way. They’d had a slightly tense dinner, filled with silence because Cookie was still stewing. Hunter clearly didn’t know how to safely breach that anger, but she’d calmed down as they ate and by the end of the meal was feeling almost mellow again. That was when he’d suggested that he could think of a great way to relax, release all her tension, and also work out any remaining aggression in a far more useful manner.

  And, for the second night in a row, Cookie had turned him down. It was obvious Hunter hadn’t expected that. In fact, he was so unused to rejection he didn’t even know how to process it. He’d actually started rising from his seat, grinning, before her refusal had sunk in and he’d frozen mid-motion. It had been almost laughable, seeing her egotistical ex-partner so utterly shocked.

  But it hadn’t made her change her mind. Oh, sure, sleeping with Hunter would probably be amazing. Cookie recognized that. And it was certainly something she’d dreamed about and lusted for all the years they’d worked together. But now, when it was right here, when he was actually offering that to her? It just didn’t feel right. And part of that, she knew, was the distance that had grown between them, both physical and emotional.

  But part of it was also the guy standing in front of her right now. A guy she barely knew yet had a definite attraction to. A guy who had made it clear he was attracted to her as well. A guy she was really interested in getting to know better. A guy that would be staying around Secret Seal Isle. And she couldn’t very well pursue that line of thought if she was hopping into bed with Hunter; no matter how much certain portions of her might enjoy that.

  “Oh.” Dylan’s single exclamation brought Cookie back the present. He had raised his eyes from the hula girl, and in them she saw warmth, affection, and interest echo in the slow smile once again spreading along his lips. “Well. Good.” She almost laughed again but knew that wouldn’t sit well with his already slightly-battered ego. The quiet stretched between them a few seconds before he nodded. “I’d better go finish that porch railing.”

  “That’d be great, thanks.” She hoped her warm tone made it clear that she wasn’t dismissing him, and he seemed to get the hint. At least, when he turned to walk away, it wasn’t in a huff, and he was still smiling as he went.

  It was a nice smile, and one that lit a heat deep inside her. Cookie hoped she’d see a lot more of it.

  “How’s it going?” she asked as she stepped out onto the porch a few hours later. A cool breeze blew off the ocean and made her hair tickle the back of her neck. “It looks great.”

  “Just about done,” Dylan informed her, dabbing a little more paint on one of the rails then touching up another one. He leaned back and squinted. As he had the other day, he’d evidently overheated too much to remain fully clothed and had stripped off his shirt, something Cookie most certainly approved of wholeheartedly. “There. All set.”

  He carefully placed the brush down on top of the open paint can and rose smoothly to his feet, the wood beneath him creaking as he backed away toward her so that he could survey the entire porch. Cookie did the same. It really did look great. He’d gotten all of the new rails installed and had painted all of them, the fresh coat still glistening in the late-morning sun, and it all looked clean and new and perfect.

  “Of course, now the rest of the place looks terrible by comparison,” she pointed out with a smile, indicating the worn shutters and shingles of the wall behind her. “Guess I’ll have to get you to work on that next.”

  Dylan grinned at her. “Why, Ms. James, are you inventing reasons to keep me around?” he teased, his accent lending a delightful near-burr to his words.

  “Do I need to?” she flirted back, which only made his grin widen. Then she held up one of the glasses in her hand. “I brought you some lemonade. Figured you might get a little dehydrated out here.” She let her gaze slide openly across his sweaty chest, shoulders, and arms.

  “Thanks, that sounds great.” Stepping forward, he took the glass from her, their hands touching for just a second, but it was enough to send a jolt clean through her. She thought by the way his eyes widened that he’d felt it as well.

  “Shall we?” she asked to cover her surprise, indicating a pair
of the porch chairs nearby. He nodded, and they sat, both balancing their glasses on the broad arms of their chairs.

  “I’m really sorry about lunch yesterday,” Cookie started after they’d both had a few sips. “I mean, the way it ended. I’m not sorry about the rest.”

  “Me either,” he agreed. “Though, yeah, not the ending I saw in my head.”

  “Oh? And what did you see?”

  His answering smile lit her body up as though she’d touched a live wire.

  Wow, if he can do that to me just by smiling, what would it be like if he was more… hands-on?

  The thought immediately made her flush, and she toyed with her glass in the hopes of hiding her reaction, but when she glanced up she found him watching her intently, his blue eyes piercing and knowing and just a little bit smug.

  “Maybe we should try again,” she suggested softly.

  “I’d like that,” he agreed at once. But then a shadow passed over his face. “Provided your bodyguard isn’t around to disrupt it again.” He downed a quarter of his drink before continuing. “Is he your ex?”

  Cookie considered how to answer that. “In a manner of speaking,” she said finally. She sipped on her lemonade, and the sourness made her jaw clench. After all, that was true enough, in its way. She wanted to tell Dylan all about it, why she was really here, who she’d been before, but wasn’t sure she was ready to share that with him. Or that it was entirely safe to do so. She wasn’t in the witness protection program or anything—she’d moved of her own accord and so wasn’t bound by any rules or strictures—but it didn’t seem the wisest or safest course to reveal her true identity to someone she’d only recently met, no matter how strong the chemistry between them.

  “Did he come up here to win you back?” Dylan asked next, his eyes intent on her.

  That was something she could answer easily. “No. At least, I don’t think so.” She frowned as she realized maybe that had been part of the reason for his prompt response, but shook it off. “I called him,” she explained. “After the body turned up.”