The Samantha Wolf Mysteries Box Set: Books 1-3

by Tara Ellis

  “There’s nothing in here about Wood’s monster,” Sam says with disappointment. “It just gives some dry history on when the lighthouse was built. Apparently, it was constructed shortly after Mr. Wood founded the town in 1845, as a way to help guide the fishing vessels back into the cove. But it doesn’t say anything about its condition now.”

  “At least it gives some background on the town,” Ally says encouragingly. Holding the book up in front of her nose so she can read the small print, she clears her throat. “Mr. Wood and his wife settled in Wood’s Cove in 1840, and it quickly became one of the largest fishing communities on the Washington coast at the time. To this day, the town still relies on the fishing industry for the bulk of its economy, second only to tourism.”

  “You’re never going to learn the real story of Wood’s Cove in a book, young miss.” The dry cackle that follows the hoarse declaration is unnerving, causing both Sam and Ally to spin around in search of the source.

  Leaning against a corner of the building is an old weathered man who has to be at least eighty years old. His pale blue eyes sparkle with intelligence as he slowly raises an antique-looking pipe to his lips. It’s smokeless, so Sam guesses he’s simply puffing on it out of habit. Her uncle, who lives in Montana, smokes sweet smelling pipes sometimes. But mostly, he’ll just sit with an unlit one hanging from his mouth.

  The dry laugh trails off, and he looks back and forth between the two expectantly. “Well?” he demands, sounding disappointed. “Aren’t you going to ask me what I mean?”

  Sam takes in his dirty, hole-ridden jeans and baggy white t-shirt. He stands stooped over so that he’s barely taller than Ally. While his one hand holds the pipe, the other one tugs absently at his long, greasy grey beard. Wild hair frames his line-creased face and matches it in color, completing the old sea captain look. He just needs a sailor hat or bird on his shoulder…or something.

  “So, what do you mean?” Sam asks good-naturedly while suppressing a laugh, having decided that he’s most likely harmless.

  Scrunching up his face in an exaggerated scowl, the old man seems to consider whether Sam is making fun of him. When Ally also smiles encouragingly at him though, he finally removes the pipe and breaks out in a wide, toothless grin.

  “Old man Wood did create this town,” the man croaks, waving the pipe around to encompass the surrounding buildings. “He was the best fisherman in these parts, and always brought his men home safely. That was largely due to Dead Man’s Point Lighthouse,” he continues, nodding to the distant structure barely visible through the trees.

  “Dead Man’s Point?” Sam interrupts, suddenly more interested in the story.

  “Plenty of lives were lost to the rocks before the lighthouse was built,” the old man explains, his voice even gruffer. “Not all of the captains were as good as Wood was. Even so, his time finally came, too.” Pausing for dramatic effect, the storyteller slowly looks to Sam, and then Ally. “One particularly foggy night, the keeper failed to light the candle. Wood’s ship bashed against the rocks and went down, but the captain was credited with getting her close enough to shore that all hands survived…except for him.”

  Looking morosely at his dirty feet, clad in slippers that appear as old as he is, he pauses again. Sam wonders how many times the man has told this sea tale to tourists, and suspects he’ll want some form of compensation for it when he’s done. Meeting Ally’s gaze over the top of his bowed head, they share a knowing look. Ally winks slowly and jingles the change in her pocket, putting Sam’s concern at ease.

  “His body was never recovered!”

  Startled by the sudden exclamation, Sam and Ally jump before giggling at themselves. Sam decides that she rather likes the storytelling abilities of their new acquaintance, and leans in to listen closely to rest of the folktale.

  “Now, the captain had long told his story of the cove monster,” he continues, not disappointing them. “He claimed to see it often sliding just below the surface, keeping pace with the ship as it approached the entrance to the cove. While no one else saw it, they did hear an eerie sound on nights when there was an extra thick fog. Wood said it was his sea creature speaking to them, reminding them of his existence, and vowing to protect the cove. This is why it’s believed by most that the sea creature took the captain to the depths below when he slipped into the water that night. Finally together, they continue to protect the cove and all the ships that come and go.”

  Mistakenly taking his silence as a sign that this is the end of the story, Sam starts to ask a question, but he quickly stops her with a raised hand.

  “Every night after his disappearance until her death, the captain’s wife walked the dark trail to the lighthouse, bringing a candle with her to light the way. She would climb the stairs and ensure that the lighthouse shone bright, convinced her husband would still find his way back to her. To this day,” he continues, looking ever so seriously at both of the girls, “on foggy nights, you can hear the wail of the creature and see the dim light of the candle still shining at the top of the lighthouse, beckoning him home.”

  Delighted with the story, Sam and Ally clap when he finishes, and Ally gladly gives him all of her change. With a barely concealed moan at the small amount, he nonetheless drops it into his jeans pocket and starts to turn away.

  “Wait!” Sam calls, stopping him. “How can we see inside the lighthouse?” she asks hopefully.

  “That’s not possible,” he answers abruptly, shaking his head for emphasis. “It’s over a hundred and fifty years old, and hasn’t been used for nearly fifty of those. It was wired for electricity in the early nineteen hundreds, but it became too expensive to maintain. With the fancy equipment the new fishing boats had, it just wasn’t needed anymore. When the trails were washed out from landslides and it became inaccessible other than by boat, the town committee decided they couldn’t afford to keep it going. It’s been sitting there falling apart ever since.”

  “Are you sure there’s no other way?” Sam presses.

  Ally gives her a warning look, afraid that her friend is already planning something dangerous.

  “You’d do best to stay away from there,” the old storyteller cautions, but with a new tone. No longer weaving a tale, he’s standing a bit straighter and his words have a sharper edge. “There’s nothing there for you to see. Nothing good has ever come from that place. Its walls echo with sorrow.”

  Surprised by his conviction, Sam watches as he walks away, mumbling something under his breath. Looking guiltily at Ally, she shrugs. “I just wanted to make sure, is all,” she explains sheepishly. They begin to walk back the way they came, both of them silent as they think about the somber story.

  Without warning, Ally throws her arm up in front of Sam to stop her. Looking sharply at her friend, Sam finds Ally has a finger to her lips to silence her retort, and mouths the word ‘listen.’ Taking a moment, Sam hears what seems to be a very heated conversation going on nearby.

  Stepping a bit closer to the nearest building, they slowly edge towards the corner so they can look down the alleyway. Standing about twenty feet away is a group of three men, one of them waving his arms in anger as he speaks with a heavy accent.

  “I don’t care how much I’m paid, man. I didn’t sign up for this!”

  The man is dressed like any other tourist, but he’s very large and has a dangerous look about him. Sam’s eager to retreat, when she focuses on the guy he’s talking to…and gasps. It’s Mr. Moore!

  Just as their neighbor starts to turn his head in their direction, Ally pulls Sam back, out of sight. Now worried the men sense someone listening, the girls run quickly in the opposite direction and duck into the nearest store.

  Doing their best to walk calmly to the farthest corner, they find a big rack of stuffed animals to hide behind. Peeking between plush whales and starfish, the girls watch as Mr. Moore steps through the doorway and slowly looks around. Holding their breath for what feels like an eternity, he finally scowls before disappe
aring back outside.

  7

  BROTHERS!

  Dinner is almost ready by the time Sam and Ally get back to the house. They hurry to help set the table while the boys assist with putting the final touches on the sandwiches.

  A Philly Steak/French Dip combo is a favorite dish in the Wolf household, and Ally is always sure to be invited over when they have it. But it’s been a while since John has eaten with them, and he makes it clear that he’s missed it. Sam notes how he and Hunter have fallen right back into their familiar routine with each other, their constant banter light and easygoing.

  Helping the twins into their highchairs, Sam cuts up some grapes to put alongside their French fries. Grapes are one of the few fruits they’ll eat, so they always try to have them handy. It’s not unusual for a good portion of their meals to end up on the floor and getting them to eat is always a challenge.

  “Find anything interesting in town?” Kathy asks, pouring water into the glasses they set out. “Any Wi-Fi?” she directs to Ally.

  Groaning, Ally pats at the phone still in her pocket. With their unexpected encounters, she had completely forgotten to even check!

  “I forgot,” she admits dismally, looking at Sam with a little guilt. They weren’t sure whether to share the encounter with Mr. Moore. It was dangerously close to snooping.

  “So what happened?” John presses. “No way Ally wouldn’t be jumping all over her phone unless something more interesting came up.”

  Ethan Wolf raises his eyebrows questioningly at the girls as everyone takes a seat at the big table. He knows his daughter well enough to interpret the furtive glances at her best friend. “So?” he finally asks when no one volunteers an answer.

  While she might have been able to make excuses for not offering to tell her parents about Kevin Moore, now she doesn’t have a choice. Sam might be curious and maybe a bit too bold when it comes to taking risks to help people, but one thing she won’t do is lie.

  “Well…” she starts, looking to Ally for input. When her friend returns a blank stare instead, Sam sighs in resignation. “We sort of….kind of…well, almost had a run-in with our neighbor, Mr. Moore.”

  “Who?” her mom asks. Her sandwich is paused halfway to her mouth, bits of roast beef, sautéed onions, and cheese oozing out the sides.

  Realizing that her parents don’t even know about the odd Kevin Moore and his family next door, Sam quickly explains the weird introductions from earlier in the day. She then recites the old fishing tale in detail, including a fairly decent imitation of the old man’s voice that has the boys laughing. By the time she describes the scene in the alley though, and their hiding out in the gift shop, her parents aren’t amused anymore.

  “I’m disappointed that we’re having this conversation,” Ethan admonishes. “Especially this soon into our trip.”

  “But Dad, we didn’t do anything,” Sam pleads.

  “It’s what you didn’t do…like walk away. From now on, if you find yourself having to hide from view in order to listen or see something, just don’t do it. Okay? Is that so hard?” Tapping his fingers on the table in beat to his words, it’s obvious that her father is frustrated with them.

  Hanging their heads, both of the girls nod in understanding and continue eating in silence.

  It’s not long before the quiet is interrupted by squeals of joy from Tabitha and Addison, who seem to be having a contest to see who can throw her grapes the farthest. Glad to have the distraction, Sam busies herself retrieving the food.

  The commotion breaks up the awkward silence and the boys start telling them all about their day in the water, the new friends they made, and about a sand castle festival that’s happening on the beach Friday.

  Her scolding nearly forgotten in light of this exciting development, Sam sits back down in her chair and leans forward eagerly. “A sand castle festival?” she asks. “Do you mean the kind where they have contests and stuff?”

  “Yup.” Hunter answers before John can speak up. “We met these kids staying down the beach a ways, and they told us all about it. Happens every year. Sand castle building contest, food, music, swimming contests, paragliding and everything! I guess your old sea captain forgot to tell you, huh?” he adds mockingly, wiggling his eyebrows at his sister.

  Doing her best to ignore the bait, Sam turns back to her mom. “That sounds like a lot of fun! We can go, can’t we?”

  Relieved that her daughter appears more interested in the festival than the local legend and mysterious neighbor, Kathy is more than happy to say yes. “It sounds like something the whole family can enjoy together. Good timing,” she adds, turning to Ethan.

  As they all start talking about it at once, Sam is reminded of the trail they discovered earlier in the day. With everything happening since, she had almost forgotten!

  “Dad, would it be okay if Ally and I hike a trail we found near the beach?” she asks when there is a break in the conversation. “It’s marked with a sign and everything. We wouldn’t go far.”

  “Do you mean the one with the sign that says not to use it because it’s dangerous?” Hunter asks, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

  At the look of disappointment her father turns on her, Sam can’t help herself, and lashes back.

  “It says no such thing, Hunter!” she fumes, eyes flashing. “It just cautions that the trail isn’t maintained, is all. Not that it’s dangerous. Stop trying to make it seem like I’m being sneaky!”

  “All right. kids,” Kathy warns, “that’s enough. Hunter,” she continues, turning to him and waving a fork in his direction for emphasis. “I know exactly what you’re doing, and it isn’t going to work. Stop trying to cause trouble.”

  His grin widening, Hunter goes back to finishing his second sandwich, satisfied that his input had the desired effect.

  “Now Sam, you know how I feel about you going on random trails by yourself. Whether it says caution or danger doesn’t really matter,” her dad quickly adds, when she starts to argue.

  “You and Ally are twelve years old, and while you have proven yourselves capable, I still don’t agree with you running off to wherever you feel like. If you want to go on a hike, that’s fine. But you’ll either wait until I’m done with my work and available, on Sunday before we leave. Or you can take the boys with you.”

  With that declaration, Hunter and John exchange a knowing smile and it’s all Sam can do to not blurt out what she thinks. Biting her tongue, she reaches under the table and nudges Ally’s leg, cautioning her. While Sam is the more vocal of the two, she wouldn’t put it past Ally to say something to her brother. They have to be careful. They’ve been in trouble too many times before and it wouldn’t take much to get them grounded.

  “Okay, Dad,” Sam finally says evenly, surprising everyone. With satisfaction, she watches the smiles fall from both Hunter and John’s faces, and reaches casually for more french fries. “I understand. We won’t go without you or the boys. Do we still get to go to the marina with you in the morning?”

  During the drive to the cove, he invited them to visit where he’d be working for the week. Sam has always been fascinated with the different fishing boats, and she’s been looking forward to exploring the new marina. When her dad nods in confirmation, obviously surprised by her lack of argument about the trail, she feels a twinge of excitement.

  If there was a good spot to learn more about Old Captain Wood and his sea monster, it’s where all the current fishermen hang out. Ally returns the nudge under the table, and Sam figures she’s thinking the same thing. A small prickle crawls up the base of her spine. She knows without a doubt that their trip is about to get more interesting!

  8

  EXPLORING THE MARINA

  Early the next morning, Sam sits in the front seat of the van, next to her dad. She yawns loudly. Her optimism about the day ahead isn’t quite as positive as it was last night, but that’s only because the sun has just started to break above the waterline. She wishes now that she and All
y had gone to bed the first time her dad hollered at them to be quiet last night. But it was nearly impossible to fall asleep with the waves crashing outside, and the silhouette of the lighthouse visible in the moonlight, through the thin curtains.

  When the warm sunshine reaches them on the narrow road that winds along the shore, Sam turns her face into it and finally smiles. It’ll be worth it. The boys opted to stay behind and get the beach to themselves, although they’ll have to watch the twins for a while. With her dad occupied with his work, and no one else to bother them, she and Ally should be able to do some sleuthing. Is there really a sea creature? Is there a way to get to the lighthouse? And who were those scary-looking guys that Mr. Moore was arguing with? Sam has been around marinas enough to know that in a small fishing town, that’s where you go for answers, not the local tourist trap.

  In less than twenty minutes, they pull into a massive parking area, and Sam is not disappointed. It’s a huge harbor, with dozens of large commercial fishing vessels mixed among smaller, private boats. There’s at least one restaurant, a tackle shop, a rental store and numerous smaller booths housing various wares.

  Turning in her seat to point out the shops to Ally, Sam sees the wide-eyed expression on her friend’s face. Although they live by the ocean and there’s a marina there at home, she’s never seen anything quite like this before.

  “I didn’t think it’d be this big,” Ally says in awe, looking around as they get out of the van. “Where do all these people come from?” she asks, as they dodge out of the way of a group walking by at a brisk pace.

  Ally is right; the population here is likely higher than in town. “A lot of them live on their boats,” Sam explains, looking to her father for confirmation.

  “That’s right, Sam,” he agrees, directing them towards what must be the main office. “I imagine a fair amount of them live here year-round. You have to keep in mind that most of the town’s population also works here in one aspect or another. Add to that the commercial vessels that come and go on a regular basis, and you get quite the gathering. One of the reasons my boss chose Wood’s Cove for the work on his boat is because of the particular craftsmanship that’s needed. It’s very hard to find nowadays, almost a lost art. Some of the woodworkers here have been doing it their whole lives. You just can’t hire the same kind of help anywhere.”